


Shades of Winter

by sgtbaarnes (Thighz), Thighz



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Steve, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Military, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sub Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/sgtbaarnes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier project is the last thing veteran James Barnes wants to participate in. Created by Billionaire's Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, James wants no part of money hungry inventors ruining his already PTSD ridden life. But Natasha insists and before he knows it he's swept up into a program that will test not only his emotional limits, but his ability to overcome a buried past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by shakethatcas@tumblr.com  
> My lovely sister.  
> Thanks. :)
> 
> To all those here for the first time, welcome. I haven't written a full length fan fiction in years. I mean YEARS. So bear with me as we take this long, grueling journey together.  
> I will post updates every Sunday evening(if you follow me on Tumblr you'll know WHEN the update is and if there will be a delay). sgtbaarnes@tumblr.com
> 
> Warning: There will be intense PTSD in this one, compared to the mild form I wrote in 'Compass'. I have a lot experience in PTSD. My military jargon is slightly unused, but don't worry, my husband is military and he provides the accuracy of whatever happens in this story.
> 
> This is also a BSDM. With Dom! Steve and Sub! Bucky
> 
> Each chapter will contain the warnings that pertain to their sessions.
> 
> Enjoy and review please! Positive vibes keep my juices flowing!

The accident took more than his arm, apparently. 

Military doctors don’t see past the spinal damage, the loss of two ribs, a broken collar bone, and oh yea, his entire left arm. Yea, they only see the medical side of it, not the emotional. They send him off to the looney doctors for that shit. 

So that’s where Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is currently sitting. In a stuffy therapist office surrounded by pictures of mountain ranges and shitty elevator music. He probably looks a mess in his ragged jeans and oversized blue Army hoodie, but what does he care. The three people dressed up in chairs around the office are just hiding the reality of their sickness behind glamor. 

He was never very good at that. 

A receptionist calls a name that isn’t his and he continues his wait, staring blankly down at his phone. Natasha’s last text stares up at him like a snake poised to strike. He’s been avoiding the question in green for almost a month, but the moment of truth has arrived and she’s asked him fifteen times in the last two hours. 

_James, I don’t have time for your shit. Are you coming to the gala tonight or not?_

The Winter Soldier project. 

A gala held by Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, two of the richest men in the goddamn world. They started it when overseas terrorists began to take service men and women hostage and tortured them. The gala raised money to help said men and women get back on their feet if they returned home. 

If. 

Sounded like a load of bull to him. It seemed like a publicity ego boost, a way to keep their names up in the air and money lining their wallets.  
Because what did a pair of entrepreneurs know about the ways of war? 

Now, Natasha has this crazy idea that if James goes to this gala and begs enough, he’ll be able to slip into the program and not only get the help his poor, little head needs after six months of brainwashing, but also get a new arm in the process. 

Oh, because Stark is the leading man in bioorganic engineering. Obviously. 

“Barnes.” 

He presses the off button on his phone and rises, following the receptionist through the door to the left of the front desk. The hall is carpeted a bright mauve, the walls beige with more mountain pictures.

She opens a door to his right, “Doctor Banner will see you in here.” 

He doesn’t look back as he strides into the brown and white office and the door shuts gently behind him. 

Banner is seated in a dark armchair in the center of the room. He looks nervous with a cup of tea in his hands, reading James’ chart and tapping insistently on the arm of the chair. He glances up when the door shuts and lifts the tapping hand to push his glasses down, “James?” 

He nods slowly, making his way to the chair opposite of Banner, separated by an oak coffee table. The chair is comfortable, despite its leather design, and James sinks into it. 

“You don’t look like you want to be here.” Banner raises an eyebrow. 

James snorts, “This is the last place on earth I’d rather be.” Except maybe the gala with Natasha tonight. Make that second to last place he’d rather be.  
“Well, it’s part of trauma therapy I’m afraid. You lost an arm and had some severe damage done to your spinal cord, not to mention six months of.” James scowls and lifts up a hand, “Better left unmentioned?” Banner finishes. 

“I’m here to fix my head, not discuss the reason I was dishonorably discharged.” 

“Fair enough.” Banner snaps the folder shut, sets his tea cup on the table and leans back, “What do you want to talk about, Mr. Barnes?”  
“How long does this take?” He glances around the office. 

“The appointment or the therapy itself?” 

“Both, I guess.” 

“An hour and however long you want. Your recovery doesn’t have a time limit or a due date, James. You recover at your own pace, not mine or anyone else’s.”  
That sounds rather easy. He moves his gaze back to Banner and lifts his right shoulder up into a shrug, “I guess we can start with the looks people give me when I don’t wear long sleeves?” 

Banner nods, “Of course.” 

00000 

“A simple yes or no is all I require.” 

James glances over his sandwich as Natasha stares him down from across the metal table. They are at their favorite brunch restaurant and because his appointment ran longer than usual, they didn’t get their usual table inside. So instead, he’s out in the New York heat, trying to eat his damn chicken salad sandwich with his persistent best friend giving him the stink eye. 

“I already told you I’m not sucking up to a bunch of rich dudes.” James hisses, “I don’t need an arm that badly.” 

Natasha sighs and he half expects fire to come out judging by the look of irritation on her face, “James, you need a special kind of help, not the garbage doctors the Army assigns you to. The VA doesn’t have what you deserve.” 

“Shocker.” He mutters around a mouthful of bread. 

Now she looks pitiful and that burns him, “Just give it a chance. Rogers is really nice, I mean, he has his hands in a lot of pies and is best friends with Stark of all people, but he started Winter Solider for people like you, who have been through the ringer and then some.”

“I hate dressing up.” 

“Don’t lie.” She sneers, “You love tuxedos and you love dancing with women even more.” 

“And men.” He adds, “You forget this is the 21st century and the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ thing has been lifted.” 

“Trust me. I don’t forget.” She shakes her head, “Please? I’ll be the perfect arm candy.” 

He gives her a weary look, “And what does Barton say about you being my arm candy?” 

“He’s off on some hunting trip with Kate.” 

He sets his sandwich down in defeat, “Fine, but you’re paying for the tux.” 

“And the tickets.” She reaches into the bag hanging on her chair and waves the shiny golden slips of paper in front of his nose, “See?” 

“I don’t even want to know how much those cost you.” He winces. 

“Four hundred a pop and every cent goes into the project. Rogers and Stark pay the gala expenses out of their own pockets.” She crows, shoving the tickets back into her bag and waving for one of the waiters. 

“That is ridiculous.” 

“Not when you’ve hired the best doctors and therapists in the world to look after wounded soldiers.” 

“I thought these things relied on donations from its patrons, not from the ticket sales.” He shakes his glass at the waiter politely and sighs, “What money is left over to donate if you spent it on a way inside?” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, “Oh please, 90% of these people are trying to shmooze their way into Stark or Rogers good graces, so of course they’ll pay to get in AND donate thousands once inside. The other 10% are genuinely concerned for our soldier’s wellbeing.” 

“That’s shitty.” 

“Welcome to America.” She smiles up at the waiter as he sets the check between them, along with his refill. 

He stares down at his half-eaten sandwich as Natasha takes out her wallet and hands the server her credit card. He lets her, it’s her turn to pay. 

“James. Look at me.” 

He glances up slowly, only to see a kind smile on her usually serious face. Nat never smiles like that except when Clint does something stupid or when James needs a pep talk. 

“You’re going to have a good time. You need this. You don’t have to even speak to them if you don’t want to, just enroll in the program and see how it goes. Wait till the end of the night if you want, just at least come see what it’s about.” 

“Fine.” He relents, raising his right hand in defeat, “Fine, but I haven’t gotten dressed up since my rank ceremony, I’ll need a little help.” 

That kind smile of hers bleeds into a sharklike grin, “Oh. I know just the woman for the job.” 

 

0000000 

 

Darcy is a hurricane if he ever saw one. 

She’s snarky, full-bodied and as gorgeous as Natasha promised while they were walking through the richy-richy part of York. The salon titled ‘Mjolnir’ was owned by Thor Odison, but ran fiercely and loyally by one Darcy Lewis. She damn near dragged him through her glistening front doors and shoved him into a seat. 

“What is up with this hair?” She wrinkles her nose. 

He stares at his long locks in the mirror, almost two years’ worth of growing it out from the required military cut. It fell shaggy around his face and yea, he guesses it needs a slight trim. 

“Cut it all off.” Natasha’s voice hisses from the right. 

“What?” James snaps, “No way, it took me two years to get to this point.” 

“Don’t care.” Darcy waves a hand, “As much as I’d love to see the longhaired rouge in a suit, you need to be clean cut and pointed for this soiree.” 

He pouts into the mirror and slouches forward in defeat. All this for a new arm. Or the possibility of a new arm. He really wishes the military had just approved his request for a prosthetic so he didn’t have to go through this garbage. She spends the better part of an hour chopping off his hair and trimming it neatly around his face. Her hands are quick, skilled and she rambles on about her day and asks about his and manages to hold a conversation with Nat. 

He watches as the man from two years ago slowly emerges from the mess of black. For a few seconds, he almost believes he’s the same person from that time, but it’s nowhere near true. He has two tours under his belt, six months of torture and a brick-ton of surgeries under his belt. Not to mention the PTSD.  
However, it’s calming to see the man he was before all that mess happened. 

“Wow.” Natasha breathes, finally materializing from behind Darcy and meeting his gaze in the mirror, “You look…..handsome again.” 

He smirks, “I wasn’t handsome before?” 

Darcy snorts, “Maybe in a hobo sort of way, do women still go for the homeless look?” 

“Ha ha.” James says. 

Darcy removes the cape from around his neck, blow dries off the remaining hair sticking to his nape and motions him out of her chair, “Where to next?” 

“Next is picking up his tux.” Natasha replies, tapping rapidly on her phone, “Hopefully I got his measurements right.” 

He glances down at his t-shirt and jeans, “How did you guess that?” 

She shrugs one shoulder, “I’ve been around you long enough, plus you buffed up during your tours, so I had to improvise on such short notice.” 

He scowls, “That’s creepy.” 

What’s actually creepy is the fact the tux fits him to a T. He looks smoking hot and hell yea tonight is looking better and better. He still doesn’t want to go, but the man in the mirror says otherwise. 

Natasha grins behind him, high fiving the tailor who is looking far too pleased with himself. 

James has to hand it to him, the suit is spot on, dark blue, silk tie, crisp white shirt and the shoes even fit perfectly.

“I think we’re ready.” Natasha nods. 

 

00000000 

The lights are almost blinding as he escorts Natasha through the throng of bodies and staff. Men and women carrying champagne, beer, and tiny snacks are dancing through the people like ballerinas wearing silver and black suits. In fact, the entire dance hall is decorated in silvers, blacks and reds. A crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room, casting rainbow shadows across the white walls.

“Whose house is this?” James whispers to Natasha, who is flipping her red locks and smoothing a hand down her sleek green ball gown and chatting to a striking red head in a black dress and silver heels. 

“Mr. Rogers.” The redhead replies, she doesn’t have a hair out of place and that itches along James’ skin, for all that she is pretty, her stern face is frightening,  
“You must me the famous James Barnes.” She extends a hand, “Virginia Potts.” 

He swallows, glances around and rubs his palm down the seam of his pants before taking the offered hand, “You friends with Natasha?” 

Natasha chuckles, “Passing acquaintances.” 

“Nat helped us with a security glitch last year, she mentioned you a few times and when Steve started the Winter Soldier project she called me up again.”  
He nods, “You work for Mr. Rogers then?” 

She laughs and it lights up her features in a way that relaxes him, “Oh heavens no. Steve hates having assistants, I work for Tony.” 

“He calls her Pepper.” Natasha helps. 

“That makes sense.” He chuckles, “Virginia threw me off, you’re mentioned as Pepper in the papers.” 

“That I am.” She sighs, “I blame Tony for that.” 

“She loves it.” A new voice joins their group and James turns around slowly to a man he has seen in the papers both with and without clothes.  
Tony Stark is a legend who needs no introduction. He’s dark skinned, flashy and all around good-looking in a rugged I-don’t-look-like-I-get-any-sleep way. Tonight he’s dressed down from his usual bright clothes and looks just like Bucky, only richer. 

“Nice to see you’re not wandering away.” Pepper says. 

Tony shrugs, tipping his empty glass of champagne at a server, who quickly comes to exchange it, “Steve told me I couldn’t leave.” 

“Good.” Pepper whips out a tablet from nowhere, “Where is Steve?” 

“Trying to escape the advances of a very amorous young lady by the bar.” He nods his head towards a tall, broad-shouldered blonde whose back was facing them. They couldn’t see the young lady save for a bright blue dress peeking from his right side, “He’s been trying to get out of talking to her for about fifteen minutes, she’s the daughter of one of our CEO joint firms and he doesn’t want to offend her.” 

Natasha snorts, “Isn’t she a little young for him?” 

Bucky keeps his eyes on the man’s back, the tension evident in his shoulders. It reminds him of a caged animal. “Isn’t he who I’m supposed to me schmoozing?” 

“James.” Natasha hisses. 

Tony frowns, “I’m offended that I’m not the one you’re here for.” 

Pepper rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, “Go free him from the grasp of yet another broken heart, Barnes. Tony. With me.” 

She drags him away with a brisk nod at Natasha, ignoring Tony’s protest of, “Why does Steve get all the good-looking ones?” 

Natasha pushes him along and he turns a glare on her, “What?” 

“Go. Be an important businessman who needs to see Mr. Rogers urgently,” She jerks her thumb to the buffet, “I’ll be eating if you need me.” 

He walks in the direction of the bar, ignoring the stares from the people around him. They’re staring at the limp tux sleeve where his left arm should be and he knows it. It’s nothing new, but even after discussing it with Dr. Banner, it doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable. He didn’t choose to have his arm lopped off. 

The girl flirting with Rogers is very pretty and very, very young. He winces at the beverage in her hand that is obviously nonalcoholic and she can’t be older than nineteen. 

He straightens his shoulders and digs deep for all the confidence lost during his outpour of melodrama earlier with his therapist. 

“My apologies for interrupting, ma’am,” He slides up along Rogers and grins down at the lady, who flushes at the sight of him, “I’ll need to take Mr. Rogers from you for a short time, we have a slight security issue.” 

He turns his face to Rogers, who turns just as he does. Well damn, no wonder she was so adamant in her flirting. Steve Rogers is gorgeous. Not just any kind of gorgeous, downhome, ocean-eyed with a face that could make angels cry. His suit is a striking blue, lighter than his own, with a silver tie. He’s nursing half a glass of champagne and Bucky is suddenly very thirsty. 

“Of course.” Steve nods, “Miss Evangeline, it was nice to see you.” 

“Oh.” She smiles, “You as well, Steve.” She floats away on her sparkly heels and heads for the dance floor. 

Steve turns to him fully, “Security issue?” 

Bucky shrugs, “I was told to come rescue you by the lovely Pepper Potts.” 

Steve laughs, “Of course. Did Tony tell her I needed saving?” He winces, “Did I need saving?” 

“You seem like the type to stand there all night and listen to her tell you…what?” “She seemed to be getting around to asking me on a date.” Steve mused, sipping his drink and staring down at Bucky with a glint in those eyes. 

Oh hell. 

“Who are you, exactly?” 

Bucky extends a hand, “James Barnes, friends call me Bucky, Natasha and medical professionals call me James.” 

"I've heard of you from Pepper, Sergeant Barnes," Steve takes the hand with a firm grip that makes Bucky a little weak in the knees before glancing at his empty sleeve, “You are a veteran.” 

He nods, “Two tours. One in Afghanistan and one in Iraq.”

“Impressive.” 

“It would have been more impressive if I had escaped with both arms.” Bucky shrugs.

“You did your duty.” Steve says, “Despite the loss. Are you here for the Winter Soldier project?” 

Bucky nods, “It took a lot of convincing to get me here, Nat begged and pleaded. Apparently, the VA can’t give me what I need in terms of trauma care.” 

“It rarely can.” Steve agrees, “They try to get the vets in and out, not in and fixed. It’s the flaw in our system.” 

Bucky eyes him, from the way his shoulders have relaxed in Bucky’s presence, to how those blue eyes watch him like a hawk looking at a tasty treat. Steve Rogers is going to be an enigma. 

“I’m not sure if I’m going to enroll yet.” Bucky shrugs, “I’m just here to scope out what this is.” 

Steve chuckles, “You didn’t do any research?” 

“None.” Bucky shakes his head, “I’ve been in therapy all day.” 

Steve tilts his head of perfectly coiffed hair towards an open balcony, “Come with me. I’ll explain it.” 

Bucky swallows thickly and points to the podium in the center of the room, “There isn’t a speech for that?” 

The taller man hums softly, “I prefer the personal touch when it comes to delicate matters. That speech is for the donations and press mostly, not the actual veterans.” He starts walking to the doors and Bucky follows willingly, trying not to stare at the older man’s magnificent backside. 

They step out into the cool night air and Steve leads him to a set of tables near the right end of the balcony. There are candles and fresh flowers on each table and it looks like the scene from a movie with the backdrop of New York night lights behind it. 

Steve does the gentlemanly thing and unbuttons his suit as he sinks down into one of the comfy chairs. Bucky does the same, slower, clumsier because he hasn’t done anything this fancy in years. 

Steve’s presence is comforting, despite his size and the fact that one wrong move could jeopardize Bucky’s chances of getting into the program.  
Steve looks pensive for a moment before leaning back, “Three years ago, Russia began taking American and UN soldier’s hostage and experimenting on them. I was a commander at that time and four soldiers went missing in Moscow. I was assigned to negotiate with the Russians in order to have them returned stateside. They, of course, refused.” Those blue eyes are strong, steady as they hold Bucky’s from across the candle lite table, “I disobeyed orders and crossed enemy lines in order to get them back. Two were dead. Two were beyond recognition. I was, of course, discharged immediately, honorably only because I returned two of them safely to American soil. However, I did not know what was going to happen to them or if they even survived.” 

He sighs heavily, “So after kick starting my business and joining forces with Stark, we both decided to start a program for soldiers taken hostage.” 

“You served.” Bucky suddenly feels like shit for assuming Rogers didn’t understand war, “I wasn’t aware of that.” 

“It’s not public record.” Steve whispers, “I am in the public eye far too much and I don’t need that information sweeping through the media.” 

“Of course.” Bucky nods, “So, noble to the end, you started this program.” 

“Not without consequence.” Steve chuckles darkly, “I’m still getting lawsuits from the VA and Military programs saying we are trying to put their importance on a back burner.” 

Bucky snorts, “Not worried about their soldiers? Just that they aren’t being utilized?” 

“Not true.” Steve shakes his head, “Some are more than happy to serve, others volunteer to help soldiers. To them, we are a threat because we can offer better care than the government will allow them to give.” 

Makes sense. 

Bucky still feels like a dick for thinking this was bullshit. He owes Nat an apology now, damn it. 

“So how does the enrollment process work?” 

Steve smiles now, “Good question. We have you fill out a questionnaire and you sign a document giving us and our doctor’s access to your service record. If your record reflects abuse, torture or hostage situations regarding your deployment, no matter where you served, you are immediately accepted into the program. Pepper knows more of the technical stuff, such as what doctors you are assigned to and so forth.” 

“Wow. What if you find out an enrollee is lying about his service record in order to get better benefits?” Bucky counters. 

“We expect that,” Steve nods, “Because all soldiers deserve the best care possible after separating. If the circumstances of their need meet extra criteria, we let them in anyway.” 

“You thought of everything.” 

“I always do.” Steve grins, “And if I miss something, Tony or Pepper catches it.” 

“Now that’s teamwork.” Bucky says. 

“We try.” Steve’s smile is gentle, knowing and Bucky warms on the inside. If he wasn’t so fucked up in the head, Steve would be the kind of man Bucky hit on in a bar. Or hell, hit on at this shindig if Steve wasn’t one of the most powerful men in the world. 

Men like this don’t fall for people whose heads aren’t screwed on just right. No matter how good his intentions. 

“It sounds like Nat was right then.” Bucky sighed, “This is something I should look into.” 

“Actually,” Steve began to lean forward, “I was kind of hoping you could help with something in regards to this program.” 

Bucky hesitated, “And that would be?” 

“The program is still young,” Steve began, “A lot of people see the papers, the pamphlets, the speeches, but there isn’t a real world example.”

Bucky felt his face fall into a scowl, “Now you sound like a businessman.”

“I have to look at it from both sides, Mr. Barnes.” Steve insisted, “Otherwise, I can’t fund this or keep it afloat.” He cleared his throat, “Having an actual person go through the program and give the public a step-by-step example may encourage those unwilling to get help to come forward and receive that help.”  
“You mean use my trauma as a guinea pig to the public.” 

It sounds sour coming out of his mouth and rightfully so. Judging by Steve’s outward wince, he thinks so too. 

“It’s an offer.” Steve states, “That’s all. We have over fifty participants in the program as of last month. We’ve only asked a handful to do this, they have turned it down, and we don’t force it. It’s something we want to do to expand our roots.” He looks so earnest, “Some people don’t admit they have a problem until they see proof of that problems ability to be fixed.” 

It makes sense, fuck it all. Bucky drops his head back, staring up into the pollution of the night sky. He’s not getting anywhere with his therapy. Banner is the fourth doctor he’s been assigned to see. Natasha is obviously worried and he is done living under a rock. 

“So basically a model for the project. A face.” Bucky ventures. 

Steve nods, “Exactly.” 

“What about my personal information?” 

“Our number one priority is to keep that information out of media hands. No one needs to know where you were or what happened while there. Your face gives humanity to the project, nothing else.” 

Bucky nods, “Sounds fair.” 

Steve looks taken aback for a second, “Wait, you want to do this?” 

Bucky shrugs, “Why not? I’m already a walking freak show. People look at disabled soldiers and pity them, but they also look and pretend that missing limb or that scar isn’t because of a war they can’t see. Maybe it’s time for them to see how long the recovery is for something like war. To them, it’s simple. To us, it’s a ruined life.”  
Steve looks awed across the table, mouth partially open and staring at Bucky as though he’s never seen anything so fascinating in his life. 

“You are amazing.” 

Bucky blinks slowly, feeling a flush rise up his neck to his face, “Uh…thanks.” 

“No really.” Steve insists, “Amazing.” 

“Steve?” 

Both men glance to the door at the interruption, where Pepper is standing with a tablet in one hand and a curious expression on her face, “There you two are.” 

“Sorry. Is it time?” Steve stands quickly, buttoning his jacket and beckoning Bucky with him, “Pep, you’ve met Mr. Barnes.” 

Pepper smiles, “Yes, hello again James. Natasha is gorging on the mini sandwiches, you may want to save her.” 

“Nah. I’ll consider her stomach ache payback in the morning.” Bucky grins. 

Steve chuckles, “Pep, he agreed to be our example.” 

“Can we call it something else?” Bucky winces, “I’m not a math problem.” 

“Spokesperson. Model.” Steve ticks off his fingers, walking past Pepper as Tony steps up to the podium and introduces himself. Pepper takes Bucky by the arm and smiles softly. 

“I do hope he didn’t use those baby blues on you.” 

“He totally did.” Bucky laughs, “But its cool. He can flash those at me any time.” 

Pepper throws her head back in a laugh as she leads him to the stage where Steve is already up whispering into Tony’s ear. 

Tony’s face lights up, “Awesome!” 

“What’s going on?” Natasha sidles up on Bucky’s left side, “I leave you alone for an hour and you already found another woman.” 

“I was with Steve actually.” Bucky snorts. 

“Slut.” Natasha hissed. 

“Bitch.” He snaps back affectionately. 

Steve steps up to the podium, moving the mic to his mouth and greeting the guests of the evening. “I want to thank all of you for contributing to this project. It’s taken a long time to get here and I am forever grateful to those of you who donate. Today we have reached a stepping stone with this project.” Tony waves to Bucky from behind Steve. 

Cameras and reporters are standing in the front row, trained on the stage and microphones out in a show of desperation only the media can possess. Bucky suddenly feels very, very nervous and his stomach rolls. 

“As rumors have spread, I am here to confirm that we have been actively looking for a face to represent for the project. We wanted to breathe an actual life into the foundation to encourage those still unsure to come forward and get the help they deserve.” Steve continues, “I am happy to announce tonight that we found our face.”  
The crowd erupts into questions and clapping, Steve lifts a hand to quiet them down, “We will release a question and answer session once everything has been settled and the excitement has died down.” 

Pepper leans into Bucky, “Are you sure about this?” 

Natasha blinks, “Wait, you? Can you do that?” 

Bucky shoots her a scathing look, “I’m not an invalid Nat, and yes, I’m sure.” 

Pepper nods, “Alright. We will handle the paperwork tomorrow morning, Stark industries at nine am, sharp Mr. Barnes. Not a second later. Now,” She glances over at Steve who is continuing his speech while also glancing at them from the corner of his eye, “Do you want to be introduced now or later?” 

Bucky swallows thickly, “Let’s do this.” 

She gives Steve a thumbs up with the hand curled around Bucky’s bicep. 

“Tonight I am proud to give you a face to the Winter Soldier.” Steve waves an arm out to Bucky, “Sergeant James Barnes.” 

Pepper releases her grip on Bucky’s arm as he ascends the stairs to the stage and joins Steve and Tony at the podium. Cameras flash in his face, questions are shouted from below, but Steve’s hand is warm and grounding at his elbow. “Amazing.” Is the last thing whispered into his ear as he is lost in the sea of flashing lights.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky talks to people. Steve hates running errands. Tony's a nosy best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget sometimes that I'm a full-time mother now. My two-month old takes up a shitton of my time. Sorry it's taken so long to update.   
> No warnings this chapter. :) Enjoy

“I’ll never get used to this.” Natasha whistles as she tosses the newspaper onto the tiny two-seater table in Bucky’s apartment.

He glances up from his omelet, fork halfway to his mouth, “What, me on the front page?” His eyes rake over the black and white picture of Stark and Steve on either side of him, “Wait till my first magazine shoot.”

She sneers, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if publicity is the way to get the word out there. You’re not a side show.”

He shrugs, “It's America, if we don’t make it public, no one will care.”

“Not true.” She crosses her arms over her chest, blocking out the lettering for Clint’s archery school on her shirt.

“Very true.” He shoves the fork into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, “Besides, you’re the one who wanted me to do this. For a new arm.”

“Is that guaranteed though?” She asks.

“Who knows?” Bucky slices off another section of the omelet, “I’ll ask when I meet up with Pepper this afternoon. It’s been almost 24 hours and she wants to go over the specifics with me.”

“I just want you to be careful.” She walks around the table and drapes herself over his shoulders, “No one’s that virtuous. Not even Steve.”

“I don’t expect him to be.” He replies, “Look, it’s a good gig. I don’t have to stress over my medical co-payments. The VA only covers so much. Other vets can see that there are better options. Hell, I plan to voice my concern on getting vets who have only seen wartime the help they need.”

She sighs and plops down in the seat across from him, “Fine, just be careful. Fame corrupts.”

“Fame?” Bucky snorts, “Who’s going to go ga-ga over a ruined soldier with one arm?”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Starks tower is huge.

Super huge.

Bigger than what he’s seen on TV or the magazines.

Bucky enters the bottom through double glass doors and spots a dark-haired woman scrolling through a cell phone behind a marble desk. He walks up to her slowly and clears his throat.

She glances up slowly, peering at him from over her glasses and a salacious smirk forms on red lips, “Well hello delicious.”

He chuckles, “Hi doll, I’m here to see Miss Potts.”

“I’ll buzz up.” She presses a button hidden behind the desk’s hulking overhang and a fuzzy woman’s voice answers.

“Hill.”

“Miss Potts cute soldier boy is here.”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

She releases the button, “Any chance you’re free this Friday?”

He can’t contain his smile, “On a normal day I’d say yes, but with this new thing? Not sure. How about you give me your number and I’ll get back with you on that.”

“My pleasure.” She rips a pink sticky note off her desk and smears it across the marble top, gel ink from her pen printing her number in pretty calligraphy.

He rips it off the counter and pockets it with a wink just as the elevator dings from his left.

A woman with short, dark hair and dressed impeccably in a dark blue pants suit waves him over to the elevator. He hurries over and enters beside her. She types a quick code into a keypad and presses a button.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Barnes, I’m Maria Hill, head of security.” She extends a hand and he takes it firmly.

“Bucky’s fine.” He says.

She nods and they stand in silence as the lift takes them higher. He watches the numbers tick on and on as they ascend. The number hits 35, it comes to a halt and a British male voice asks for a vocal confirmation.

“Maria Hill with James Barnes.” She replies.

“Access granted.”

The doors slide open and Bucky damn near swallows his tongue at the office. It’s surrounded by glass, two black couches, a large flat screen suspended before a beautiful carved desk and two burgundy chairs. Pepper is seated behind the desk, hair back in a neat bun and tablet held between her slim hands. She stops mid-sentence as her eyes fall on Bucky and Maria.

Steve is seated in one of the red chairs and he turns as they enter.

“Ah. Right on time.” Pepper stands up, smoothing her blue-black skirt as they step further into the office. “Take a seat Mr. Barnes.” She waves to the other chair.

He does as he is offered, feeling very underdressed in his faded jeans and hoodie. Even Steve is dressed in a well-tailored suit and tie. He has one leg resting on the knee of the other, hands folded in his lap.

“That’ll be all.” Pepper nods to Hill, who nods back and reenters the elevator.

As the machine whirls away, Pepper takes her seat again and smiles, “Good to see you’re still up for the job.”

Bucky nods, “I would have given you notice had I changed my mind.”

“Nevertheless.” She sets her pad down and motions to a stack of papers, “When it comes to dealing with someone’s personal information, I prefer to keep a hard copy, we don’t need a hacker finding any of your progress. The internet is convenient, but dangerous.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Now, Steve wants to do this ASAP, even before your discharge papers are released to us.” She looks skeptically over at Steve, who grins at her.

Bucky suddenly feels nervous, “Does my discharge matter?”

“Not unless the dishonorable is related to distributing drugs, slave trade, or treason.” Steve answers.

“None.” Bucky mutters.

“But it is a dishonorable?” Pepper ventures.

“Yes.” He replies, ashamed.

“Don’t worry. That will be under lock and key,” She assures, “A dishonorable can be all sorts of stupid things. We do not judge.”

Bucky tilts his head, “To be honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure what the dishonorable is for. Considering I was a hostage for six months.”

Pepper turns up her nose, “Far be it for me to disagree with our humble military superiors, but that is total bullshit.”

Steve chuckles and Bucky manages a hesitant smile, “I don’t remember much. Just flashes and then being in a medic chopper missing an arm.”

“Not surprising.” Steve assures, “Prisoners of war do not typically want to remember their entrapment.”

Pepper’s lips curl down into a frown before she gathers up the stack of papers and straightens them with a soft click against the desk, “These are the consent forms. Each one pertains to the steps in our program. It is a 12 step process and each step comes with a consent to either do the step privately or to give the media access to it.”

She hands the papers over the desk and Bucky leans forward to grab them. He skims the first page, the first step being ‘six therapy sessions’. Easy enough.

He glances up at Pepper, “I take it there is a catch to doing certain steps privately?”

She nods, “While we normally have only a privacy policy for our candidates, you are our spokesperson. So Steve suggested we give you three private steps. Choose them wisely.”

Steve cuts in, “Of course, you don’t have to sign them all at once. One at a time is the goal here.”

Pepper nods, “Once the step is completed, contact either Steve or myself and we will set up the next steps consent.”

Bucky whistles, “You have this all well organized.”

“It won’t be without bumps.” Steve reminds him, “But we’ve been planning this for months, no one’s bitten until you.”

“I don’t blame them.” Bucky whispers, “It’s hard to admit to the country you served that you couldn’t even keep your head on straight when you got home.”

The huff that comes out of Pepper startles them both, “Those are ignorant morons.” Her shoulders shuffle, “PTSD happens to everyone, especially those who have had to sacrifice their safety and sanity to give said ignorant morons a safe haven to live.”

Bucky shrugs, “Humans.”

“Agreed.” Steve says, “Now, as to why I’m here.”

“Not here because you missed me?” Bucky snickers, waving the papers at him with his only arm.

Steve laughs softly, “I won’t have to miss you if this goes to plan.”

“Oh?”

Steve sets his other foot on the ground and leans forward, “I’m prepared to offer you a place to stay during this frenzy. Your apartment will be too accessible to the public. Should someone get too familiar or want to harm you, you would be too close to the public for us to rescue you.” He clicks his tongue, “Now, I can offer you a guard to watch the apartment every night, but you would be safer at my place.”

Bucky studies him for a moment. Stay with one of the hottest men in Manhattan? Sign him up any day.

“I don’t know…”

“You have time to decide.” Steve assures, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out a card, “My cellphone number is on the back.” He points to the ink, “When you’ve made your choice, give me a ring.”

“Okay.” Bucky nods.

“Those are copies of the consent forms.” Pepper motions to the ones in his hand, “Take them home. Read them. Make certain that you’re sure you want to go through with this.”

“Too late to back out now that the world’s eyes are on me.” He snorts.

“It is never too late.” Steve mutters.

Bucky frowns at that, but nods to them both, “Okay. I’ll head out then, give you call in the morning?”

“That’ll do fine.” Pepper rises to her feet and walks him to the elevator, Steve close behind, “Have a good day you two.”

Steve enters the elevator once it rises and opens for them, Bucky trudging in after him. The blond types in a quick code and the lift lurches to life around them.

Bucky leans against the right wall, hand curled around the metal bar and watching Steve in mild curiosity. Steve is staring at the doors, hand tight together at the base of his back. He recognizes the stance from his days in the military and Natasha spends most of her time trying to correct him back into a civilian stance.

“How long have you been retired?” Bucky inquires.

Blue eyes slide over to meet his, “Four years.” He clears his throat, “I was force retired.”

Bucky winces, “Yea. They don’t take too kindly to orders being disobeyed.”

“Noted.” Steve grins, “But worth it. Two men are alive and wandering around because of me.”

“You said you didn’t know what happened to them?” Bucky asks.

“True.” Steve nods, “But I like to think that they are well taken care of…wherever they are.”

Bucky frowns at that. POW’s do not usually get off scot-free, especially if they served wartime imprisonment in a hostile country. However, Steve’s bravery still saved the lives of two men and that’s saying something considering the US government never sticks their necks out to save captured soldiers in a decent amount of time.

The elevator comes to a halt on the ground floor and Steve walks with him to the glass entrance. Bucky salutes to the cutie behind the desk, who giggles and uses her hand to imitate the ‘call me’ sign.

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, but says nothing and holds the front doors open for him, “Need a lift?”

Bucky stares at the passing yellow cabs in contrast to the black town car seated in wait by the curb, “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Steve opens the back door and motions him in. Bucky slides smoothly across the leather seats, “I usually take my bike,” Steve explains, “But when I’m on official business, it’s easier to just take the car.”

“Fancy.” Bucky nods, face curious.

“Should you choose to stay with me,” Steve begins, “This will be at your disposal day or night.”

“I’m loving the perks already.” Bucky leans back, tucking his arm behind his head and watching as the city passes them in bursts of color, “Just not sure if I’m willing to part from my home.”

Steve winces, “We’re just worried about your safety. There are crazy people in this world.”

“I understand.” He nods, “Trust me, I’ll think real hard. Am I allowed visitors in your nice, posh place?”

“Of course.” Steve looks taken aback, “I would never deny you the company of friends and family.”

“Got no family,” Bucky shrugs, “Just Nat.”

Steve chuckles, “Ah. Romanoff.”

“I take it you know her?” Bucky asks.

“Mm.” Steve agrees, “She does a lot of security detail for Tony and I. Her company is an asset we rely on frequently.”

“She’s a badass, keeps trying to offer me a job but,” He nods at his missing arm, “I’m pretty much a liability without an arm.”

Steve seems to study him for a moment, “You never talked to the VA about a prosthetic?”

“Of course I did.” Bucky says, “Numerous times, with Nat in tow, but they can only give me the shittiest one my insurance can afford and it would cause me more pain than anything.”

“Hmm.” Steve looks absently out the window, deep in thought.

The driver pulls up alongside Bucky’s apartment complex and knocks twice on the tinted glass window to alert them to their arrival. Bucky thanks Steve, who absently replies, his thoughts somewhere else and Bucky just chuckles. He waves to the driver in thanks, who nods with a smile and glides effortlessly back into traffic.

He climbs the stairs to the sixth floor instead of using the elevator, enjoying the burn in his thighs once he reaches his apartment.

It smells like breakfast with Natasha and his TV is still on the discovery channel.

He stops in the doorway and glances around his tiny studio, full-sized bed tucked in the back left corner, couch a few feet away and TV mounted on the cream wall. His kitchen in a little nook to his right, tiny table seated in the center of the light-blue ambiance. His bathroom is behind the kitchen, pale yellow and ugly as sin.

He wonders if he’ll miss this place.

It never felt much like home. Not like his mother’s house did, the warm smell of sunlight and cheery colors. He closes his eyes and pictures her, dark-haired and gathering him up in her arms, teary-eyed before his second deployment. She passed from cancer a month before he returned home. He’d been missing for so long, he hadn’t found out till he woke up in a hospital in D.C.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes it out quickly, reading the text from Nat.

_Drinks at seven?_

He glances at the wall clock in the hallway and it’s only three.

_Yea. Usual?_

He walks into the kitchen, opens the fridge and goes about making a sandwich while his phone goes off again with Nat’s reply.

He takes a seat at the table, soda popped open next to his plate and sets the consent papers on the opposite side.

12 steps, three private steps and nine public ones. Not too shabby, considering he thought his entire process would be open to the world.

He flips through each paper, reading the steps as he goes.

  1. Six private therapy sessions

  2. Start weekly group sessions for remainder of program(Cont. if wanted)

  3. Catscan and full body exam

  4. Confront any fears related to PTSD

  5. Find squad partners of your choice(if living) and discuss any ill or memorable times

  6. Heart to Heart with family/friends

  7. Confront your biggest obstacle

  8. Make a list of any lives you were required to take during your service

  9. Make a public apology to their families.

  10. Remove all guilt from the taking of any lives. You are the weapon, not the mind behind it.

  11. Take up a new hobby

  12. See private therapist one last time and get a catscan




Not near as bad as he thought they would be. He skims over the explanations on each papers steps. He’ll discuss them further tomorrow with Natasha.

He leans back in his kitchen chair and stares up at the ceiling.

No turning back now.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

****  
  


Steve hates visiting the records building.

It’s reaching almost 90 degrees in the tiny, cramped waiting room and his suit is beginning to stick to his skin. The room is an ugly green, chairs ripped and old and uncomfortable. The lady behind the desk looks almost a hundred and doesn’t seem to be fazed by the failing air conditioning.

He glances at his wrist watch and sighs at the time. He’s going to be late for his dinner with Tony.

Speak of the devil, his phone vibrates in his pocket and he answers swiftly, “Please tell me you have an alternative way to get the records to us without me having to come down here every time?”

“ _I can always just hack the system_.” Tony’s jolly voice answers.

Steve pouts, “That’s illegal.”

“ _Like that’s stopped us before_.” Tony snickers, “ _How did the meeting with tall, dark and handsome go_?”

Steve smiles a little at the mention of Bucky, “Very well. He’s still on board.”

“ _Please tell me you’re going to hit that_.”

“No.” Steve hisses, “That would be unprofessional.”

“ _Again. Never stopped us._ ” Tony sounds far off, as though he set his phone down, “ _But at least I got you to admit he’s sexy_.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I’m going to be late for dinner.”

“ _Boo_.” Tony calls, “ _Fine. Just shoot me a text when you’re free from Phillips’s clutches. He taking his time_?”

“As usual.” Steve glowers at the door behind the receptionist desk.

“ _Bummer_.” The line clicks and Steve pockets his phone.

To his surprise, Phillips, a man almost as old as the lady behind the desk, emerges from the door behind her. He’s in his dress uniform, hair graying at the temple and a permanent frown on his face.

Steve swallows back anger at the lack of folder in his hands and rises to meet him at the desk, “Bad news, I assume?”

“You said James Barnes?” Phillips asks.

“Yes. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve reiterates for the tenth goddamn time, “He’s entered into our program and I need this file.”

“Sorry son, no can do this time.”

“What? Why not?”

“Barnes’ file isn’t here. I made a few calls and it’s on lockdown at the pentagon.”

Something inside of Steve turns sour. He presses his fingers against his temples and resists the urge to beat his head against the counter. His mind races with a million possibilities at why a soldier’s discharge would be so secretive that it must be kept behind locked doors.

“How locked down are we talking?” Steve asks.

Phillips winces, “Well, Coulson wasn’t too happy that I contacted him for something that he quote ‘not a goddamn person should know or be asking about’.” He shrugs, “Guess the man who monitors everything didn’t stop to watch the evening news. Barnes was even in the newspaper.”

Steve drops his elbows onto the desk and cradles his head, “Goddamn it. I don’t want to take him out of the program. The kid lost his fucking arm while a hostage.”

“So don’t take him out.” Phillips hisses, “No file. No way to leak the full extent of Barnes’ personal discharge.”

“It’s not that simple.” Steve grumbles, “This is supposed to be a legal way to help captives recover.”

Phillips waves his hand, “You say that like what you’ve done in your past is legal, boy.” He points at the door, “Now get out of my office and get that kid the help he needs.”

Steve nods forlornly and marches out of the office, into the evening twilight. The cities lights aren’t far from the base offices and they look haunting along the skyline. He sheds his suit coat and tucks it into the pocket of a black motorcycle parked on the curbside. He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, mounts the bike and takes off towards the base exit.

Twenty minutes later he’s back in the city and handing his keys to a young valet dressed in a silver tuxedo outside of Tony’s favorite restaurant. He nods to the young man and enters the establishment without even changing his wind-swept appearance or putting his jacket back on.

Tony waves from their usual table, seated at the edge of the glass windows. People stare as he strolls between white-clothed tables and tinkering wine glasses of the rich and famous.

“You look angry.” Tony frowns, “And I don’t see a folder.”

Steve collapses into the chair across from Tony and waves for one of the waitresses.

“You look a right mess,” She exclaims in her thick English accent, “Mr. Rogers, I haven’t seen you this disheveled in years.”

“Brandy please,” He sighs, “And it’s been a long day, Edith.”

She nods quickly, “Your usual then boys?”

“As always.” Tony reaches for the wine glass in front of him as she scurries away to the bar, “I take it Barnes is a no go?”

“Over my dead body.” Steve hisses, “Phillips says Coulson has it sealed at the pentagon.”

Tony whistles, “So…?”

“I can’t take him out.” Steve leans forward, “Pepper spoke to Banner before Bucky came in for the meeting with us, all he can say is Bucky needs this. Something happened over there and it followed him home.”

“It follows them all home, Steve.” Tony says, “What makes him so special?”

Everything. Nothing.

He doesn’t even fucking know.

Bucky’s earnest agreement to be their spokesman. The way he holds his head high no matter how many disgusted stares he gets when he walks through a crowd. Steve can tell he's hiding something behind the bravado and smirk, but he just can’t-.

“You _like_ him.”

Steve glances up just as Edith sets his brandy down beside the ice water. Tony is scowling at him from across the table.

“I was joking when I said to hit that,” Tony says, “But you _actually like him_.”

There’s no need for the emphasis, Steve thinks bitterly. Of course he likes Barnes. He liked him the moment Pepper mentioned that Natasha had a ‘friend’ that wanted information on the program. ‘Too afraid’ Pepper had told him, Natasha was trying to pester him into signing up instead of manipulating him secretly. Steve likes stubbornness in a person. But Bucky is resilient and would only give in if he felt he actually needed help.

Admitting you need help is always the first step, they say.

Bravery comes in all forms.

“I don’t like what you're insinuating.” Steve scowls.

“You Like him.” Tony hisses, “With a capital ‘L’.”

“I’ve known him less than three days Tony.”

“But I know you. You fall so easily Steve.”

Steve downs his brandy in one swallow, refusing to play into Tony’s game. Tony drops his face into his left hand and groans, “You don’t stop and think do you?”

“Says the man who’s slept with half of New York.” Steve snaps.

“I don’t have,” Tony leans forward and lowers his voice, “‘Special interests’ when it comes to my selective partners.”

Steve’s lips purse into an angry frown, “Don’t worry. I have no intention of dragging him anywhere near my ‘interests’.” He shoves away from the table and Tony throws up his hands.

“Steve-.”

“Save it.” He hands a twenty to Edith when she rounds the corner with their food and leaves the restaurant.

****  
  
  
  
  



	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky moves in. Tony grovels. Pepper gets irritated.  
> No warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do sincerely apologize for the delay. My life has been crazy this last month. I had to move from my home into my MIL house until my husband and I can get back on our feet financially. Then we had to run to florida from Louisiana to take care of some past military business for my husband. 
> 
> This is a short chapter. I'll make up for it in the next one.
> 
> Thank all of you for being so patient with me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Drinks with Natasha goes about as well as he planned. She scowled at him from over the rim of her martini when he explained that Rogers wanted him to move in. She weighed the pros and cons, then spent the better part of an hour telling him that any place was better than the shithole apartment the VA helped him find. He picked it out, he reminds her, but she doesn’t care.

She seems on the fence about him staying with a complete stranger for the duration of his treatment, but he can tell from the worry-lines on her face that she had been hoping he’d find an alternative living arrangement.

So now he sits alone in said shithole a week later, staring down at the back of Steve’s business card at the crisp, gorgeous handwriting. It’s neater than the number on the pink sticky note attached to his freezer door. He really should call her too. A date would do him some good.

Instead, he thinks of Steve’s blue eyes and the sad lines of his face when he explained his reasoning for the project. Steve’s heart is in the fair treatment of others. It squeezes at Bucky’s own heart and as he dials Steve’s number, he makes a note to toss the pink sticky note into the trash.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Steve expects many calls during his day. It’s normal, although over 80% of them are Tony complaining about one thing or another. He isn’t, however, expecting a familiar voice to say ‘ _When_ _can I_   _move_ _in_?’ when he answers on the fourth ring.

He blinks down at the paperwork on his desk, “Bucky?”

The laugh on the other end of the line sends a sharp thrill down his spine and he can’t help but grin as Bucky says, “ _Well, I would hope I'm the only one you've asked to move in_. _I'd be wounded if you had a list_.”

“Of course not.” Steve replies, “To be honest, I was almost sure you’d choose to stay in your own home.” He moves his paperwork around, trying desperately to make it look neat. It’s a lost cause, he’s hopeless. He really should have Pepper come in and organize it again.

“ _Nah_. _This_ _place_ _sucks_ _and_ _I’m_ _in_ _no_ _mood_ _to_ _constantly_ _fight_ _off_ _reporters. I_ _assume_ _they’ll_ _want_ _words_ _with_ _me_ _once_ _we_ _go_ _public_.” Bucky says flippantly.

Steve presses a finger to his temple, “Unfortunately, yes. They’re like sharks.”

“ _Blood_ _in_ _the_ _water_.” Bucky supplies, “ _So_. _When_ _can I_ _move_ _in_?”

Steve chuckles, “As soon as you want. I can have boxes delivered and movers ready at your earliest convenience.”

“ _Yesterday_.” Bucky groans, “I _had_ _to_ _listen_ _to_ _my_ _neighbors_ _have_ _loud_ , _obnoxious_ _sex_ _at_ _three_ _this_ _morning_. _She’s_ _very_ , _enthusiastically_ _loud_.”

“My apologies.” Steve presses a button on his landline, “Abigail, please phone my moving company to report to Mr. Barnes’ residence within the next two hours.”

“ _Of_ _course_ _boss_.” Is her short reply.

“ _I’ll_ _get_ _my_ _night_ _bag_ _ready_.” Bucky hums, “ _You_ _work_ _fast_.”

“I try.” Steve shrugs, “I’ll be in the office until well past eight, so pick a room and make yourself at home. I have an automated butler, same as Tony, her name is Friday.”

“ _Got_ _it_.”

“See you then.”

After Bucky hangs up, Steve sets his phone down gently on his desk and lets out a whooshing sigh. If his dinner tiff with Tony did anything, it made him paranoid about asking Bucky to move. Logically, in his head, the invitation was to keep Barnes safe from the frenzy of the media during his treatment. Then Tony had to go and ruin it by reading Steve’s inner consciousness and pointing out that he wanted ‘to hit that’.

Steve scowls at his phone, wanting more than anything to call Tony and give him a few choice words.

He doesn’t though, he’s mad at him. For now.

His desk phone buzzes, he answers, “Yes, Abigail?”

“ _Pepper_ _is_ _on_ _line_ _one_.”

“Thank you.” He switches lines, “Pep.”

“ _Steve_.” She sighs happily, “ _Thank_ _goodness_ _you_ _haven’t_ _left_ _for_ _lunch_.”

Lunch? Steve glances over at his desk clock. Damn it. It’s past two.

“I forgot all about lunch. I was on the phone with Mr. Barnes.”

“ _Did_ _he_ _give_ _you_ _an_ _answer_?”

“Yes. He should be moved in by the evening.”

She makes a pleased sound, “ _Excellent_. _Now_ , _for_ _the_ _first_ _press_ _conference_ , _what_ _security_ _unit_ _should_ _we_ _use_ _for_ _it_? I _was_ _thinking_ _of_ _hiring_ _Tony’s_ _suggestion_ _from_ _the_ _gala_ , _but_ _since_ _you_ _two_ _are_ _hissing_ _at_ _each_ _other_ _again_ I _figured_ _I’d_ _piss_ _him_ _off_ _and_ _get_ _your_ _choice_.”

“Taking sides is dangerous.” He tsks.

“ _Considering_ _it’s_ _his_ _fault_ , _not_ _so_ _much_.”

“Let’s go with Romanoff’s unit, keep Mr. Barnes in his comfort zone.”

“ _SHEILD_ _it_ _is_ _then_.” Her pad dings as she enters the information in, “ _Thanks_ _Steve_. _Enjoy_ _your_ _new_ _roommate_.”

The line disconnects and he buries his face in his hands.

He is so fucked.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

“This isn’t the same place as the gala,” Natasha whistled, grabbing a box from the moving truck.

No, the gala had been held at a glorious mansion out near the edge of the city. This was just a penthouse. A large building in the middle of the city, which belonged entirely to Steve.

“I changed my mind.” He swallows thickly.

Nat bumps into him with her shoulder, “Hell no. You will not deny me the luxury of this place.”

He glares, “This isn’t about you, you know.”

“I suggested it.” She sniffs, marching through the propped doors and clearing her name with suited men guarding them.

The movers help them get his stuff up the elevators and his furniture up the lifts. By seven, he has the room directly across from Steve’s in the apartment itself. Each floor of the building is a house and each house had a code in the elevator to get to it.

Steve, of course, has the top floor, much to the chagrin of the movers. It’s a beige, modern apartment, with large, beautiful art pieces and three bedrooms. One is obviously Steve’s, judging from the bounce-a-dime-off-it made bed and the framed pictures of a blond woman on the night stand. The other is an art studio, messy and littered with paint supplies and canvases.

The last one had been empty, now it is filled with Bucky’s bed and furniture. It was nice to have his things in one room. A private room.

The rest of the apartment is breathtaking. There’s a large balcony adjacent to the living room, where an L-shaped black velvet couch sits in the center across from a large TV and entertainment center littered with DVDs. The dining room has a four-seater table and a mini chandelier drooping above it.

The kitchen is all stainless steel, high tech appliances and Bucky makes a note to not touch anything in fear of setting off an alarm. Or worse. Breaking something.

“This place is sweet.” Natasha gasps from her spot in his bathroom.

He comes up behind her and whistles at the stone shower and swimming pool-sized tub.

“Bit much.” He frowns.

“I am so jealous.” She whines.

“Don’t be.” He snorts, “I’m just here until the program is over.”

“That could be a year or more.” She elbows him.

He waves at the bathroom, “Then by all means. Go for it.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“No. Clint is your best friend.” He sends her a smirk, “I’m that weird kid you bullied in class to be your fake boyfriend so Clint would get his head out of his ass and ask you out.”

“Semantics.” She shrugs.

He follows her back into the bedroom, where she throws herself onto his bed and grins at the ceiling, “You’re going to love it here.”

“Fancy doesn’t mean comfortable.” Bucky reminds her and takes a seat at her left side.

She turns her head towards him, a small smile playing across her lips, “James, seriously. Steve’s giving you an amazing opportunity. A home, a chance to reverse the damage done.” She rolls onto her side and props her head up with her arm, “It’s going to get stressful and worrying about an apartment you can barely afford to pay on top of healing yourself isn’t going to help.”

He sighs and drapes his arm over the length of his legs, “I know.”

“So enjoy it. Relax. Heal. Hit on Steve.” She pushes herself up and off the bed.

Bucky’s face twists into a frown, “Why would I hit on Steve?”

She snorts, “Yea, like I didn’t notice the way you looked at him during the gala.”

“Doesn’t meant I need to flirt with my benefactor.”

“Flirting is harmless.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, “Just don’t actually sleep with him.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” He mumbles, “Leaving?”

“Yep, I’m doing security at your press conference and I have to pick my team.” She winks, “I’m running point.”

“Nice.” He grins, “Have fun. See you there.”

She waves and disappears through his door. A few seconds later, the elevator dings and the apartment falls into silence.

He clears his throat, “Uh, Friday?”

“ _At_ _your_ _service_ , _sir_.” A female voice fills the room.

“How do I get food around here?”

“I _can_ _order_ _take_ - _out_ , _sir_.” She offers, “ _Mr_. _Rogers_ _gave_ _me a_   _list_ _of_ _restaurants_ _that_ _will_ _deliver_ _to_ _the_ _lobby_.”

“Deal. Let’s do Chinese.”

“ _Of_ _course_ , _sir_. _Specifics_?”

He leans back against his pillows, “Surprise me.”

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

It’s damn near past ten when Steve shuffles into his buildings elevator and enters his code. He rolls his sleeves up, checking his cellphone for any straggling calls or texts. Once it stops at his floor, he enters his apartment with a relived sigh and heads straight for the kitchen.

The smell of fried chicken and sickly sweet pork meets his nose. He inhales sharply, spotting two take-out containers and a set of chopsticks balanced on top. His feet carry him to the counter beside the fridge and he picks up the first container, popping it open and cracking his chopsticks apart.

He’s just starting to stuff his face when Bucky makes his appearance, shower fresh and standing before him in low-slung sweat pants and a dark red t-shirt.

“Figured you’d be hungry.”

“Skipped lunch.” Steve says around a mouthful of sweet and sour pork.

Bucky laughs, leaning against the doorframe, “Thanks again, for letting me stay.”

Steve swallows his food, “It’s honestly not a problem.”

“I’m warning you though, Natasha may pop into borrow the bathtub. It’s fucking sweet.”

“You should see mine,” Steve grins, picking another shred of pork and popping it into his mouth. He watches Bucky’s eyebrows rise into his hairline at the offer and berates himself. He immediately changes the subject, “Did you get a chance to look over the program steps?”

“Yep. I’m assuming this is a lengthy program judging by the number of therapy sessions involved in some of the steps.” Bucky nods, relaxing further into his stance against the doorframe.

Steve hums, “Yes. One thing at a time, I said.” He smiles, “Comfort and pace are our biggest concerns.”

“That’s good.” Bucky says, “No rushing. No sign this, pretend you feel fine, sign out.”

“It is our priority that every member of the project is comfortable with each step. If you don’t like how a step is going, bring it up and we adjust to fit your needs.” He sets his food back on the counter, “We do want you out of your comfort zone in a few of them, healing means taking risks, but if it’s too much always back off and try again later.”

He watches Bucky’s face form into an obvious frown, “You speak from experience.”

Steve doesn’t reply at first, just moves to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, “We all bring something back with us.”

“Did you get the help you needed?” Bucky inquires, pushing away from the doorframe and watching him with worried eyes, “Steve?”

“I adjusted.” Steve’s smile is forced, he can feel it tight on his face and Bucky knows it.

His tone leaves no room for argument and Bucky backs away, defeated for now on the subject.

As he motions to return to his room, he glances back at Steve, “Night. Thanks for this.”

“Not a problem.” Steve clears his throat, “Night.”

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Bucky is startled from sleep by a loud, annoying male voice whining on the other side of his door. He sits up slowly in his bed, eyes adjusting to the room around him. The voices get closer to his door before drifting away to another part of the apartment. He falls back into his pillows, groaning sharply for a few moments before rolling out of his bed and trudging to the bathroom. He relives his bladder, checks his reflection in the mirror and decides a shower would do him some good.

It’s only been a week since he moved in and already it feels better than his other apartment. The hot water comes out almost instantly, no crazy sex sounds from above or behind him.

After he takes a quick shower, he yanks a black shirt over his head and tugs on some jeans. If Steve has guests, no need to walk around in his sweats like he normally does.

Before long, he’s out of his room and venturing towards the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Steve.”

That would be Tony then, Bucky decides, rounding the corner into the kitchen and taking in the scene.

Steve is hunched over his sink in his work suit, scrubbing furiously at the dishes from last night’s steak dinner and ignoring the pleading man behind him. Tony has his hands out, looking like a greasy mechanic straight from a backyard auto repair shop.

“I’m just going to apologize until you forgive me.” Tony insists, he also seems to take notice of Bucky.

“I’m still angry. I’ll be angry for a while.” Steve replies, continuing with his aggressive washing technique.

“You know I didn’t mean it.” Tony moves to stand on Steve’s left, “I put my foot in it all the time.”

“Sounds sincere to me.” Bucky cuts in, opening the fridge and taking out a fitness water.

Steve startles and turns, “I didn’t realize you were up.”

“Tony’s groveling woke me.” Bucky nodded, “I have an early shift anyway. No big deal.”

Steve scowls over at his friend and Tony deflates under the angry blue gaze. He puts his hands up, “Fine. I’ll try again later.” His gaze flickers over Bucky, who begins munching of left over Chinese food. “How are you enjoying Steve’s only indulgence?”

Bucky glances around the kitchen, “It’s better than where I was.”

“I bet.” Tony agrees, “Army doesn’t give much and I doubt your…” He frowns, “Where do you work?”

“I do security at one of the smaller malls uptown.” Bucky shrugs, “It pays half the bills.”

“Why don’t you work with Natasha?” Steve dries his hands with a towel and leans against the counter furthest from Tony.

Bucky waves to his missing limb, “I’m more of a liability to them sans arm.”

“I doubt that.” Tony muses, giving him a fleeting scan, “Welp. I’m done begging for today. See you tomorrow Steve.” He sends them both a wave and glides out of the apartment, leaving the smell of oil and sweat in his wake.

Bucky watches Steve follow Tony out the door, “What did he do?”

Steve hums, “Tony forgets to filter sometimes.”

Bucky tosses his empty to-go container into the trash and reaches for another bottle of water in the fridge, “You seem like a forgiving person. How long have you been mad?”

“Two weeks.” Steve replies flippantly, “But I’m mostly making him suffer. We’ve been friends since college. He’s forgotten his filter for almost 90% of our relationship.”

Bucky chuckles, “So you’re just letting him wallow in it?”

Steve sends him a wink, “Of course.”

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Pepper doesn’t like being ignored.

“Excuse me.” She clears her throat once again.

The fluttering mess of reporters gathered before her won’t stop chatting. Cameras keeps going off and the chatter is almost deafening. She scowls across the sea of them, dressed in a light green dress suit and wishing she had a foghorn.

“EXCUSE ME.” She hisses louder, watching a handful of heads turn her way, but the rest keep on chatting. She reaches for two of the mics seated neatly in a line across the white cloth table and pressed them together. The noise is screeching and everyone shouts, covering their ears.

“Thank you.” She separates them and brings one to her mouth, “We will begin the session soon. I ask that you keep quiet while questions are asked and answered. Mr. Barnes does not need fifty questions thrown at him at once. Rules will be followed or you will be escorted out.” She waves to the men and women in suits lined sporadically around the room.

Some nod, others roll their eyes.

“Now.” She glances over at the door to her left, where Steve and Bucky are standing together watching her, “Shall we begin?”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conference goes okay. Steve pulls out his hair.

Chapter Four

 

Bucky groans as he falls back into one of Steve’s comfy microfiber chairs in their apartment. His head tilts back over the edge as he watches Steve toe off his loafers at the door, loosen his tie and shrug off an expensive looking jacket. They were both returning from the Q & A session with the press about the project and they both looked well-worn to the bone. Steve glanced over at Bucky’s upside down figure on the chair and smiled.

“Want something from the kitchen?”

“I would kill for a beer.” Bucky states happily.

“Then a beer we shall have.” Steve nods, disappearing through the doorway.

Bucky tucks his head back upright and goes for his own fancy ensemble. Pepper was nice enough to dress him up and hell he appreciated it, but it wasn’t his usual duds. A cold bottle is pressed into his now tie-less neck and he takes it from Steve with a grateful grin.

Steve takes a seat on the sofa next to him and kicks up his soaked feet, letting them rest on the coffee table, “I’ve been to some grilling’s before, but that was brutal.”

Bucky shrugs, “It kinda reminded me of my debriefing when I came back stateside. Lotta questions, not enough answers to go around.”

Steve frowns, “They asked quite a bit of personal questions, were you okay with that?”

“Sure.” Bucky replies, “I signed on knowing that my personal life wouldn’t be very personal. You gotta know the man behind the project to understand how the project works. It’s a personal thing in general, isn’t it?” He takes a sip of the beer, swallows and considers, “I mean, I came back broken, quite literally-.” He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s face darkens as he says that, “And there are people out there wanting to fix me, but don’t have the right materials to do it. You guys do.” He points the neck of the beer at Steve, “So it’s personal.”

Steve nods slowly, “But still, asking if you were in a relationship?” He chuckles, “Fishing for a date at a press conference isn’t exactly attractive.”

You’re attractive, Bucky’s brain supplies traitorously as he watches Steve drink his beer.

“Women like broken men.”

Steve’s face twists, “What? Seriously? That’s a thing?”

Bucky laughs, “I’m joking.” He waggles his eyebrows, “I’m a good-looking fella if I do say so myself.” He leans forward, “I know a certain young lady from a gala that thought you were the bees knees.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, “Stop talking like that. And she was barely twenty. I’m in my thirties.”

“Age is but a number.” Bucky quotes with a flourish of his beer. He flops back against the chair and grins.

They sit in silence for about ten minutes before Bucky’s phone goes off in his back pocket and he has to wiggle around to get it out. Natasha’s name and picture are bright on the screen.

“Nat?”

He nods a few times and Steve watches him quietly. Bucky chuckles once, listening intently to the pretty red-head Steve only met a handful of times. She had lead the security team with an iron fist that would have made her severely attractive, if Steve were still into women. He fishes for the remote and clicks the TV on, muting the volume as Bucky thanks his friend for keeping people controlled for his first famous person multi interview. Steve gives a soft laugh at that and watches a mindless football game.

He relaxes into his own couch, loving the human company more than he thought he would. Bucky’s presence in his home had been an adjustment, but one he sorely needed. Tony had been harping on him for years about getting a roommate or letting the man himself move in.

Steve winced at the memory of sharing a dorm room with Tony. Never again.

“Sorry about that.” Bucky tosses his phone onto the coffee table, “She wanted to make sure we got home safe.”

Steve smiles, “Of course. Security until the very end.”

“Yea.” Bucky says, “She’s always been like that.”

They watch the football game for another hour or so before both men decide to hit the hay.

Steve watches as Bucky gathers their empty bottles, dropping them into the recycle bin in the hall by the door. He flicks off the kitchen light and goes into his room. He smiles, retreating into his own room and closing the door gently behind him.

He turns to the neat, army-made bed and aches. The room is almost completely bare, just as it had been in service. Another thing Tony kept harping on. Pepper had decorated the rest of the house and Tony had made sure all the furniture was top line. His own room, however, always looked like had stepped right back into his little tent overseas. A neatly made bed and a picture of his mother on the bedside table.

He passes his large, walk-in closet, closed securely and locked, thank goodness on the way to the bathroom. He showers quickly, tugs on a pair of pants and a white shirt, then unwraps his bed like a boring Christmas present. At least the sheets are better than his old ones. ‘Only the best for my bestie’ Tony had said when he shoves the silk sheets into Steve’s arms.

He stared up at the ceiling, hands folded on his stomach and wondered if Bucky found him as boring as Tony did. Bucky was broken, yea, but he was quick with a smile and a joke, knew how to charm a lady. Steve couldn’t get anyone past his bedroom door without them signing a consent form so he didn’t end up with an assault charge.

He closes his eyes.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bucky thought he was prepared for the hassle of the press, but he was wrong. Without Natasha and her squad there to keep people in their chairs, he found out the hard way that people would bother him. Constantly, despite the fact that his boss threatened to fire him in front of the idiots who are still shoving hand held recorders into his face.

_“Are you sure you can handle the stress of the public knowing your military past?”_

_“Are you and Rogers lovers?”_

_“Did you kill anyone during your service?”_

The questions dragged on and on and he stood at his post, watching the people around him as was his job. As mall security.

It is barely noon and almost fifty people have gotten into his personal space, tried to touch the stump where his arm was, and hit on him.

“I think you need to leave, Barnes.” His boss insisted an hour later, “I already called in someone to take your place.” Bucky’s stomach sank at that, praying this wasn’t the end to the only job that would hire his handicapped ass. “Sort this out and get back to me when it’s cleared up.” He points to all the press and people gathered around before pointing at Bucky and walking away.

A sigh leaves him in a rush. Job safe for now.

He escapes through an ‘employee’s only’ door near the back of the large mall, the satisfaction of leaving the press behind a warm glow in his stomach.

He sheds his uniform, tugs a white t-shirt over his head and reaches for his cellphone at the top of his locker.

The first number he dials is Nat.

“ _Romanoff_.” Her voice is clipped, sharp, which means she was on a job and didn’t bother to look at her caller id.

“It’s me.” Bucky clears his throat, “Too busy?”

“ _Never_.” Her tone changes instantly, warming to him, “ _Everything okay_?”

He sighs, “Not exactly,” He tucks the phone against his shoulder and uses his only hand to finish packing his bag up, “I may need a body guard.”

“ _Shit_.” She breathes, “ _Did you get fired_?”

“No. Thank god.” He praises, “But if I don’t clear it up, I will be.”

“ _Understandable_.” There’s a pause, “ _You could always just work for SHEILD_.”

“You already know my answer.” He snaps, “I’m no use to a high class security agency with one arm.”

Her silence is spiteful and he knows it, “I’m going to call Steve next and set something up.”

_“So why am I being called_?” She sighs.

“As a courtesy, since we will be using your agency.”

“ _Ah. Alright then. Call Steve, I’ll let Nick know he’ll be in touch_.” Her line disconnects.

He stares at the phone for a full ten seconds before dialing Steve’s number. It goes straight to voicemail and he leaves a quick, brief message for the blonde before shoving the phone in his back pocket and leaving the locker room.

A sleek black car is sitting in the employee parking lot when he peeks his head around the door. A man in a grey suit waves to him from his spot on the outside, “The coast is clear!” He shouts and Bucky is suddenly very grateful for Steve’s chauffer offer.

He beelines for the back of the car and the drivers opens the door with a chuckle, snapping it closed behind him. Bucky spots the reporters from the corner of the building just as the driver starts up the engine.

“Vultures.” He mutters, taking a sharp right out of the parking lot.

Bucky falls back against the seat and stares up at the roof, “You’re a fucking life saver.”

“I aim to please, sir.” The driver chuckles.

“Steve is a genius.”

“Oh yea.” Comes the agreement, “To the house sir?”

“Nope.” Bucky replies, “I need to see Dr. Banner today. I suddenly feel like starting my first steps.”

The driver meets his eyes in the mirror, “You sure?”

Bucky meets them head on, “You bet your ass.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Steve yanks at his hair after the conference room is empty and Tony is standing near the dry erase board with a frown.

“That didn’t go as planned.” Tony mumbles.

Steve lifts his head, hair sticking up everywhere and eyes narrowed, “You think?”

Tony winces in sympathy, “I didn’t think Pym Industries would pull out in the beginning.”

“That’s because it’s being run by someone other than Hank.” Steve sighs, spreading out the papers, only three out of seven signed on to help with the project.

“Should I have Pepper call Hope?” Tony tries, “Hope works under the new guy, maybe she can pull some strings?”

Steve snorts, “Did you see the douchbag who runs it? He won’t budge. What did he call it?”

Tony sighs, “ ‘A waste of my resources. I need to focus on equipping the military, not helping take out the garbage.’ “

Steve’s blood boils at hearing the words repeated back to him, “Fucking asshat.”

“Language.” Tony admonishes.

Steve shoots him a glare.

“Sorry.” Tony sinks down into one of the black rolling chairs next to him, “Look, we have plenty of donations from the gala to fund at least Barnes. That’s what we need right now, to get people on Barnes’ side and our side. He’s our golden goose.”

“PTSD isn’t a joke, Tony. This is going to be very taxing on him.” Steve whispers, “His file is on lockdown, something bad happened and he needs this. It won’t be easy and the spotlight might just fuck everything up.”

Tony sighs, leaning back in the chair, “Look. He can back out at any time if he feels too overwhelmed, but this is a good thing. Veterans needs this as an option. The world needs publicity or it won’t follow blindly.”

“I hate that.”

Tony chuckles, “You always have.”

Steve stares down at the three signed papers, gathers them up and tucks them in a folder. He does the same to the unsigned ones, handing the separate folder to Tony. “Take these to Pepper. Tell her to get a hold of Hank if she can. He may be able to help fund from the shadows. Tell her to get Strange and the others to sign.”

Tony waves the folder, “Will do.” He rises from the chair as Steve takes his phone out and sees the message from Bucky.

He listens to it on speaker as Tony leaves the room.

‘ _Hey Rogers. Looks like I’m going to need a body guard after all. I’m on suspension from work until I can sort out my stalker problem. Just press so far. Asking some dumb ass questions. Nat said to call Nick. He’ll be expecting you.’_

Steve bangs his head against the table.

“Fuck.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Banner is just as calm and serene as Bucky remembers. He’s seated across from him in the office, Banner flipping through paperwork pertaining to the project. Banner nods a few times, mutters to himself and Bucky studies the room around him while he waits.

There’s nothing personal on the walls. Just abstract art and shelves lined with books. Not even therapist books, just worn novels and a few books on the theories of science and gamma radiation.

“This is a lot of work.” Banner glances up, his glasses sliding down his nose, “Are you prepared for that? This is going to test your levels emotionally and physically. PTSD isn’t easy to just write off. I can’t sign a paper and you’re clear for life. It stays forever.”

“But this can make it easier, right?”

“Yes.” Banner takes off his glasses and sets them on the clipboard, “But it’s going to be a long road. Do you have family? Friends for support?”

Bucky fidgets, “I have Natasha. My parents are dead and my sister is backpacking through Europe at the moment. Can’t really get in touch with her.”

“Alright.” Banner waves, “You chose to keep me as the Therapist for these private sessions?”

“If you’re amiable.” Bucky stumbles over the words, “You’ve been the first and only to listen instead of harping on me being better faster.”

“As I said before, it takes time.” Banner agrees, “And of course I’ll help. I’ll have my secretary send the signed confidentiality agreement to Miss Potts as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

Banner smiles, “You agreeing to this is a step in the right direction. The public eye is a bit much, but it may help others reach out. You have no idea how many veterans decline help.”

“I have a fair guess.” Bucky grows sad, “It’s hard to admit that what you see is fucked up and that you can’t just come home and everything be roses.”

“That’s how divorce happens. Alienation. Homelessness.” Banner states.

“Helplessness.” Bucky supplies and Banner inclines his head in agreement.

He sets the project papers to the side and picks up a pen, placing it to the paper, “Now. How have you been? Any new nightmares? Your new home triggering new feelings?”

Bucky relaxes into the sofa.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-

 

The apartment is silent when Bucky finally gets home. He toes off his shoes at the door and hangs his leather jacket on the hook, mentally reminding himself to wash it in the morning. He walks to the kitchen, fishing a water bottle from the fridge and downing it. There a tuppaware container with potatoes and what looks to be pork chops. His stomach grumbles and he’s happy to see a cursive note from the housekeeper with his name and a smiley face on it.

“Amy left some food.”

Steve’s voice startles him and he glances over the top of the fridge door, “I can see that. It as good as it looks?”

Steve chuckles, “Better, probably. She’s a wiz in the kitchen. I don’t insist she cooks, but every so often she surprises me.”

Bucky takes the container out gratefully, “I love surprises.” He pops the lid and tosses the food into the microwave.

“Speaking of surprises.” Steve starts hesitantly, “I apologize for the press bombarding you at work.”

Bucky shrugs, “You can’t really control them, but it was inconvenient.”

Steve shoves a hand through his hair, messing it up even further than it already was, “I called Nick. He’s going to see who he can spare for your outings.”

“These guys were innocent enough. Asking stupid press questions, searching for a story, but I’m worried about the ones who don’t support any of this.” Bucky takes the food out as it beeps, grabbing a fork, taking a seat at the table and stuffing his face.

“Me too.” Steve walks forward, “Your safety is my top concern.”

Bucky glances up from his food and swallows hard at the blue eyes staring down at him.

“Thanks?”

“I mean it. The second you get hurt because of this, it’s over.”

“That’s a bit extreme, Steve.” Bucky frowns.

“No. It’s not.” Steve’s voice is firm, “Because consent is everything. If you get injured, and I mean that physically or emotionally because of this, that falls on me and I don’t want you hurt. This is supposed to heal.”

Bucky smiles slowly, “Rogers. You’re a real winner. Remind me why you’re single again?”

Steve’s shoulders relax and his smile is timid, “Because I’m too busy?”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

Bucky watches the way the walls go up around Steve and he hates it immediately, “It is. Dating isn’t my top concern, plus, my name carries a lot of perks and many would love to exploit that.”

I wouldn’t, Bucky thinks frantically, but Steve doesn’t need to know that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a great pal. Bucky confronts other Vets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Suicide Reference  
> PTSD triggers  
> Panic Attacks  
> Past Torture

Chapter Five

 

Bucky chooses to tape his Steps sheet to the refrigerator instead of his bathroom mirror. Steve chuckles at it as he sips his morning coffee and listens to the sounds of Bucky getting ready for the day. The shower is running in Bucky’s room, channel five news set low on the television in the living room. The sounds of an occupied living space keeps him clam, centered. He takes another sip of his coffee and moves away from the chrome fridge towards the living room, where he takes a seat on his sofa.

His tense conversation with Nick about getting Bucky a body guard so he could return to work as a body guard was almost laughable. However, insisting that Bucky get another job went through one ear and out the other. Steve could appreciate stubbornness, he had enough of it to fill the ocean, but when I came to the safety of his roommate, he wasn’t holding any punches. So he requested the best Nick had to offer. (Short of Natasha herself, that is.)

Bucky emerges from his bedroom, towel around his shoulders and wearing only his uniform pants for work.

“Mornin’.” He greets, walking through the living room and into the kitchen in search of the coffee Steve brewed.

“Your mug is already next to the pot.” Steve states, keeping his eyes trained firmly on the TV and not on the golden expanse of skin Bucky was currently showing off.

“Excellent.” Bucky’s voice is muffled between the walls, but Steve can hear him pouring himself a cup.

Bucky emerges a few minutes later with a steaming black mug and a grin as he sits in the chair next to the couch, “Anything good?”

Steve shrugs, “It’s always bad news.”

“The media.” Bucky shakes his head, “What was the feedback on our interview? Was it on the news?”

“I have it on the DVR if you want to watch it.” Steve nods to the box beneath his TV, “We got the feedback we expected, the VA up in arms, people protesting and calling us ‘money hungry heathens’ and then the few people who believe we have good intentions. Pepper has most of the feedback somewhere.”

Bucky nods, “I’ll have to get with her. Some of the questions I get asked are from the interview itself, like they want some sort of clarification without ‘notecards’.” He makes air quotes at that.

Steve snorts, “Typical.”

The buzzer for the elevator goes off and Steve reaches for his remote, pressing the call button, “Yes?”

“ _It’s Sam, here to get Barnes_.”

“Got it.” Steve presses a green button and the elevator rumbles to life down the hall. Bucky grumbles and heads to his room to finish getting dressed while Steve heads to greet Sam at the entrance to his floor.

It doesn’t take long and the doors are opening, revealing Sam Wilson in his casual glory. Dressed in civilian clothes, sunglasses pushed up on his head and a grin a mile long.

“Hey!” Sam shouts, clasping hands with him, “You’re never here when I pick him up.”

Steve chuckles, “I decided to take a late morning.”

Sam makes a face, “Must be nice being your own boss.”

“Oh trust me, I had to beg Pepper.” Steve laughs, leading him into the living room, where Bucky is standing dressed in his blue uniform and attempting to chug the rest of his coffee.

“I haven’t been up here in ages.” Sam says, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing around, “You really need to redecorate.”

Steve shrugs, trying not to remember the last time Sam was there, “I really don’t have time to do that.”

Bucky glances between them, “You two know one another?”

“We dated a few years back.”

Just as “He’s an old friend.” Came out of Steve’s mouth.

Bucky’s eyebrows went up, “Uh.”

Sam gazes at Steve with a peculiar expression before steam rolling over it and patting Bucky on the back, “Let’s get out of here and try to beat the crowd to your breakroom.”

Bucky glances back at Steve as they walk to the elevator. Steve watches them patiently, schooling his face into his normal ‘see you later’ smile. As the doors shut behind them, he groans and shoves his face into his hands.

Of course Sam had to mention they were lovers. Sam was outgoing and didn’t care that Steve had issues. To him they had ‘dated’ and it was all normal, as far as ‘normal’ went with anyone Steve had been with.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he knows immediately that it’s from Sam. He removes it and glances down.

_I assume Bucky doesn’t know. Sorry man. My bad_.

And Sam was sweet. So sweet. So understanding.

Steve’s heart breaks at the memory of asking Sam to leave. Breaking everything up and going their separate ways.

He can feel that itch between his shoulder blades and he hates it. Hates that he craves it most when he doesn’t have anyone around. He sends Sam a quick ‘it’s okay’ before scrolling through his private numbers.

He stares down at them, people he used when he didn’t have a regular. Quick, easy, no strings attached. He thinks of Bucky and wet skin and warm coffee and shuts his phone off.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

Bucky glances at Sam from their seat in the back of the car. Sam has been his bodyguard for all of two weeks. Two weeks of some of the best peace and quiet at his job since this entire project started a month or so ago.

He wants to ask Sam a million questions. How long did you date? Is he as good as I’ve imagined? Why did you break up? He holds his tongue and watches the buildings pass on his way to work.

“Sorry for the awkward stereo back there.” Sam says, “I forget Steve keeps things pretty secret about his love life.”

Bucky nods, “He seems guarded about it. Single as far as I can tell, hard to see why, with his looks.”

Sam makes a face somewhere between intrigued and concerned, “It’s more of privacy issue than anything. People will do just about anything for a good sell to the media. That includes playing with feelings. Lying. Manipulation.”

“Yea.” Bucky frowns, “It’s not really my business, but how long were you two together?”

“Few years.” Sam replies, fidgeting with his cellphone, “He broke it off. Timing wasn’t right.” He clears his throat, “Thing you need to know about Steve is he is fiercely loyal to everyone but himself. Wants the best for us all, but can’t ask for it in return. He’s gonna do right by you.”

“That I don’t doubt.” Bucky smiles, “Just don’t want to overstep my bounds when it comes to inquiring about his life.”

Sam waves him off, “Steve can dodge a question better than most. He learned that from Stark.”

“Just remember this,” Sam’s voice grows serious and Bucky meets his eyes at the tone, “He’s not indestructible.”

The advice is strange and meaningless out of context, because Steve and Bucky are just roommates. Bucky doesn’t plan to hurt him or even enter a relationship that would involve breaking Steve’s heart or going anywhere near it. Bucky’s head and heart was fucked up enough for this lifetime and despite his attraction to the blonde, he was not risking his treatment for a little hanky panky with the head man.

No matter how badly he wanted it.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Bucky sits down at his first group meeting two days later, surrounded by vets of all genders and colors and physical situations. There’s a woman missing a leg and half her face, two guys missing hands, and a handful of them that aren’t missing limbs but by the shadows on their faces, aren’t any better off than the rest of them.

He decides to sit in the center of the circle, straight across from Sam himself, who leads the Thursday meet-ups at the VA office. Bucky had chosen the meetings there because off Sam, who had mentioned he did group sit downs for Veterans and active duty. Bucky felt that if Steve had trusted Sam as long has he did, then Bucky could trust him with his issues.

Sam waits patiently for everyone to sit down and flip through the pamphlet the sweet lady at the reception handed them earlier. Bucky’s read it over a dozen different times in the last year. Each time arriving at the front door of the building and then turning tail and running away like a coward to face his nightmares in the privacy of his own home.

“Everyone ready?” Sam asks, glancing around the group.

A few nod, others just grunt. Sam nods once and leans back in his chair, “First we are gonna introduce ourselves. We have some new ones today. Sara, you go first.”

The woman missing half her face is brown hair, brown eyed and wearing half a smile, “I’m Sara. Been here about three weeks. Lost all of this my second tour.” She motions to her face and leg.

The man next to her is missing a hand, “Brian.” Is all he says and then Adam, Arelia, and Savanah.

“Uh…my name is James. Lost my arm in my first tour. I’m not…exactly supposed to disclose the way it happened.” He hesitates and glances at Sam, who nods for him to go on, “Plus, it’s all a little fuzzy anyway.” He taps his skull, “My memory bank is broken.”

He gets a chuckle out of a few of them, some look at him like he’s crazy and offended by his joke. He doesn’t need to tell him that he literally can’t remember half the shit that went down because his brain literally got fucked with. According to Banner, who was about the only person allowed to read the discharge papers.

The nightmares are the only reminder.

A few others go after him, a Tom and a Bernard.

Then Sam starts up a group activity where they discuss the things they enjoyed about being on tour. The places they’d seen, people they’d met, food they’d eaten. Some reminisced about fancy german food and French cuisine before complaining about the shitty MRE’s and horrible plumbing in the desert camps.

Bucky knew he started out in Europe. Saw a lot of things, fucked a lot of women, ate a lot of food and drank a few bars dry. Then his orders switched to front line, dusty pits of heat and sand.

They share it all amongst themselves, bringing Sam into the conversations and avoiding certain topics.

Bucky sits next to Sara, who is alone at a far table nursing a Styrofoam cup of juice and some crackers.

“Not interested in swapping war stories?” He inquires, setting his own cup on the table.

She shrugs, “I’ve told it about six times now, doesn’t change anything. Still without a leg. A face. Still can’t sleep.” She glances over at him with her good eye, it’s as brown as her hair and framed in mascara and eyeliner, “Aren’t you that guy from TV?”

“I was wondering who would be the first to ask.” He muses, “Yea. That’s me.”

She raises her eyebrow, “And you chose to be a rich man’s guinea pig because…?”

Bucky’s hackles rise in defense to Steve, but he settles down, recognizing the barb for what it is, “Because Vets deserve better treatment. I shouldn’t have to beg for a new arm. You shouldn’t have to go through years of bullshit to fix what’s broken. You shouldn’t be shoved out a damn door two weeks after you return stateside because the therapist deems you ‘fit for civilian life’. But you spend ninety percent of your time awake in bed unable to tell past from present.” He leans forward on his elbow, watching her patiently, “Rogers and Stark see that. They want to help, but no one was biting. So they asked me to be a model. To show that what they want to do could help us all. The government won’t do shit, so two of the richest men in the damn world stood up and said ‘enough’.”

Her head tilts in curiosity, “Is it working?”

He laughs, “I’m barely a month in. This is only my second step and I have a long way to go.”

She wrinkles her nose, “How long is the process?”

“Long. A year or more long.”

“Oh gross.” She sniffs, “I don’t have that kind of time.”

“Vets who say that are usually dead a few weeks later.” He replies bluntly, “You don’t fix this shit quickly.” He stands up then, “Think about it. Take those words back and think about it.”

He leaves her to herself and makes a beeline for Sam, nudging him from his conversation with two of the other male vets.

Sam glances at him, “What’s up man?”

“Watch Sara.” He mutters only loud enough for him to hear, “She said the magic words.”

“Fuck.” Sam nods, “Got it. Your rides out back, we are about done here if you’re ready to head home.”

“Press outside?” Bucky groans.

Sam snickers, “Only a few minnows. You’ll be fine. Happy has you covered.”

Bucky shakes his head, says a quick, see you next Monday, and slips out of the conference room with only a small glance back at Sara.

Happy, his driver, is waiting for him at the exit just as Sam said, holding the door open for him with a smile.

“Everything go well?”

“As well as expected.” Bucky nods, climbing into the backseat, “Thanks man.”

“No problem, as usual.” Happy shuts the door.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

Steve stares up at his ceiling, naked and panting, arm above his head and enjoying the afterglow of orgasm. His stomach is covered in the remains of said orgasm and it was better than expected, considering it was just him and his right hand.

He turns his head to his bedside table and it tells him Bucky’ll be home soon, so he grabs his boxers and wipes up the mess. Next is a shower, quickly, efficiently, then strips his bed down and remakes it with a new sheet. The elevator door is opening just as he walks out of his room, tugging on a shirt as Bucky rounds the corner.

“How did it go?” Steve asks.

“Better than expected.” Bucky doesn’t look too happy, but Steve doesn’t push, only watches as Bucky plops down onto the couch. They are both quiet for a while and Steve watches the back of Bucky’s head for a bit before clearing his throat, “As opposed as I am to offering alcohol as a coping mechanism, would you like a beer?”

Bucky sighs, “Yes. Yes I would.”

Steve retrieves them quickly enough and takes the bold step in sitting beside Bucky on the couch. Bucky takes the beer with a grateful sigh and takes the first sip.

Steve doesn’t speak, only observes and it takes about three sips of beer and another sigh before Bucky turns to him.

“I forget I’m not the only one. Does that make me a shitty person?”

Steve knew the question was coming. It was the same question he asked Sam upon returning from his own group session three years ago. It was common, Sam had informed him, we all sit in our own self-pity and forget we served beside brothers and sisters who are going through the same shit.

Human nature at its finest.

“Nope.” Steve replies, “It’s the way our brain tries to heal. It focuses on its own wellbeing.”

Bucky sets his beer on the coffee table and puts his head between his knees, “I still feel shitty. I know the signs of suicide in vets. I’ve been down that road. Nat pulled me out of it, but I can’t say the same for everyone.”

Steve’s stomach hollows out and a chill snaps down his spine, “Someone was-.”

“Seemed like it.” Bucky sits up again, shoulders slumped in defeat, “I told Sam.”

Steve reaches out and grips Bucky’s knee, squeezes it firmly, “That was the right thing to do.”

“Still feels like an invasion of their privacy.” Bucky mutters, staring down at Steve’s hand.

“It is. In a way. Their choices are their own in the end.” Steve agrees, “But you followed your instinct, which was to alert someone who could help them.”

Bucky nods and they grow quiet once more. Steve doesn’t remove his hand, only strokes his thumb along the knee cap in comfort as Bucky closes his eyes and absorbs the evening.

For the first time in a year, Steve gives comfort without payment. He knows what it’s like to regret, to sit alone and not have anything to cling to for comfort. Sam was there, of course. So was Tony and Pepper, but Bucky came back alone. To one friend and a sister who was gone when he returned.

“I’m ready for bed.” Bucky declares after a while.

Steve lets go slowly, grabbing both of their bottles, “Go ahead. I’ll throw these away.”

Bucky goes and Steve tosses the bottles in the trash, listening as the door to Bucky’s room opens and closes.

He heads to his own room, strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

_‘He’s flat lining! Do your fucking job!’_

_‘I am doing my job. If you hadn’t fucked up the damn machine, he wouldn’t be hostile!’_

_‘We don’t need to preserve the memories. If they get through those doors he can not know what went down here. We need him to cross the fucking border.’_

_‘I know the damn plan.’_

_‘Do it again.’_

_Bucky swears he speaks. He knows exactly what those words mean, as they’ve been said fifty or more times since he’d been strapped to this table. A day? A month? A year ago?_

_The pain of electricity bows his body back, wrists and legs straining against the restraints keeping him to the table. He screams. He thinks. His throat is raw and his wrists are fractured, his ankles swollen and raw._

_‘What is your name?’_

_Same questions._

_‘James…..B-Buch-‘_

_Another jolt and his body screams, his brain fizzes out to white, then back into a bright ceiling light._

_‘Where are you from?’_

_‘Brooklyn…’_

_‘Again.’_

_The pain is worse, can’t be, it’s the same amount of voltage, his body is almost done._

_‘We should bind the arm.’_

_His body falls back against the table, chest heaving and eyes watering from the pain. He smells like burnt skin and urine, can feel the blood leaking from his arm and ankles._

_‘Not my job.’_

_‘It’ll get infected and he’ll die.’_

_‘Not my problem.’_

_The sound of fingers fiddling with button and wires. Bucky wants to roll his eyes, knows he needs to recite the failsafe taught to him at bootcamp. His mouth won’t move. His body won’t move._

_‘Do you want to answer to Crossbones?’_

_There’s a silence, then a soft, ‘Fucking hell. Call the doctor in.’_

_The other man shuffles around and then a door clangs shut._

_‘In the meantime. What’s your name, soldier?’_

_Bucky grits his teeth, using all the energy his has, ‘J-james…Bu-chan’_

_The voltage races through him again and he screams._

Bucky wakes up screaming for the first time in months, ripping the bedsheets off with his right arm and reaching for his ankles to rip restraints away that aren’t there. His chest heaves with the memory of electrocution and the scent of that room is all around him.

Nausea grips him suddenly and before he can crawl out of the bed, he’s vomiting on the floor.

His light is switched on without warning and despite it being blinding, he knows with it comes Steve. Sleep warm hands grip his shoulders as he heaves over the side of the bed, stomach emptying everything from the day before.

“Fucking shit.” Steve whispers beside him and Bucky wants to laugh, because this is not what Steve signed on for.

But he can’t feel anything besides Steve’s hands and his ears are ringing.

The heaves stop slowly, and his breathing evens out to where he can at least croak out the word ‘Bathroom’ to Steve, who surprises Bucky by picking him up out of the bed, and carrying him into the bathroom.

Steve sets him carefully on the toilet, “Still need to throw up?”

Bucky shakes his head and keeps his eyes closed against the bathroom lights. He hears the shower start up, listens to Steve wander the bathroom, grabbing towels, speaking quickly into a cellphone, probably.

He helps Bucky into the shower and Bucky kind of blacks out around there. Knows he’s being bathed, hates the gross, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, but follows blindly.

Next thing he knows, he’s being tucked into a bed that is not his own and smells rich and masculine and almost like the sea. He burrows into the pillow.

“There’s some water right here.” Steve offers, but it’s too late and Bucky’s body shuts down almost instantly. He falls, falls, falls into the blackness, surrounded by Steve.

 

 


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is grateful. Steve proposes a getaway. One of the bad guys is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is out. So this is going to be updated more often. On top of that, Civil War has given me a new zest for life. I am pumped and hopefully can get this bad boy done by the end of the summer.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter Six**

 

 

Amy is the best housekeeper Steve has ever had. She’s red hair and smiles and can turn the press into a blubbering mess almost as good as Pepper. He hovers over her in Bucky's bedroom as she cleans up the mess with easy efficiency.

She sprays some cleaner into the carpet, “Steve. Go get some sleep. It’s three in the morning.”

“If you’re awake, then I’m in here with you.” He states firmly.

She rolls her eyes, “I have two kids. This is nothing new.” She waves at him with her yellow rubber gloved hands, “Go. You should be with him.”

Steve knows she’s right, but still hesitates at the door before walking to his own bedroom, where Bucky is sleeping. Bucky is still asleep, curled up under Steve’s sheets. The water is gone, so he grabs the glass and refills it in the bathroom. He also snatches a bottle of pain medicine from the cabinet, because if memory serves, he always felt hungover as hell the morning after an attack. So he sets the bottle and the water on the table.

He checks on Bucky one last time, pressing a hand to his forehead and noting the heat is gone, before returning to his living room. Amy is waiting for him, trash bag in the hall. She’s in her pajamas, watching him with a sympathetic look, “Is he okay?”

“He’s sleeping.” He replies, “Thank you. For coming, I would have done it myself-.”

She holds up a hand, “I know why he’s here, Mr. Rogers. I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I assume you do.” She grabs his hands and squeezes, “Just get some sleep. I’ll do another sweep through when I come later.”

He shakes his head, “No. Take the day. I’ll handle it.”

She frowns, “But-.”

He removes his hands, “I insist. Please.”

She sighs with a smile, “Alright. I’ll see you first thing Monday then. Have a good weekend.”

She grabs the trash bag on her way to the elevator and as it shuts behind her, he falls into the couch with a heavy sound.

He fights the fatigue for all of five minutes, listening for the sounds of Bucky stirring, but he hears nothing and falls into a fitful sleep.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

Bucky wakes with a migraine that puts all other migraines to shame. He rolls over onto his back and everything aches. His head, his stomach, his entire body. He groans and pushes himself to a sitting position, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He knows the room isn’t his, the bed is different, firmer, and the sheets smell like ocean spray and cotton.

He tries his feet on the floor, legs weak, but sturdy enough to at least go empty his bladder. The water and meds on the table by the bed catch his attention and he takes them with him into the bathroom. He relieves his bladder, pops a few of the pills and downs the water in one go.

His stomach in the second thing to protest, grumbling with hunger, despite previous events. He leaves the room in search of sustenance and spots Steve curled up on the sofa.

He heads into the kitchen and starts up a pot of coffee, then searches the fridge for food. A carton of eggs is seated on the top shelf, next to bacon and a box of orange juice. He deems the bacon good and cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

Ten minutes later he has two half-assed omelets and two glasses of orange juice juggled between his arm and stomach. He sets them down as carefully as he can onto the coffee table, then reaches over and shakes Steve.

Steve wakes slowly, blue eyes blurry with sleep and muttering a soft, “Buck?”

Bucky’s heart melts at the nickname, squatting next to Steve on the couch, “Have I told you lately that you’re the best roommate a guy could ask for?”

Steve cracks a smile, “Amy did most of it.”

“Sorry about that.” Bucky winces.

“Part of the process.” Steve sits up, staring at breakfast as if it were the holy grail, “When was the last time you had one?”

“Few months ago.” Bucky admits, sitting on the couch and balancing his plate on his knees, “I was alone at that time. Nat was on a detail a few states over.”

“So you were alone.” Steve frowns.

“I’ve lived alone since I’ve been back Steve, it was nothing new.”

Steve doesn’t look happy, but he eats his food and afterwards, offers to grab the coffee after the buzzer goes off. He returns with two steaming mugs made for each of them. Bucky takes his with reverence and sniffs the caffeine induced fumes with a hearty sigh.

They finish the breakfast and coffee, and Bucky knows what’s coming next. A million questions, maybe you should see Doctor Banner today. Is this too hard for you?

He dreads them. He’s not an invalid, but he watches Steve stare stubbornly at the wall his TV is attached to and wonders if maybe he is. He was working with only one arm and limited brain functions due to the fuck ups in his head.

He just didn’t want Steve to think he wasn’t capable of completing the project because of it. He’d find some other lonely vet tucked away in a shit hole apartment.

Bucky suddenly hated that thought.

“Do you have weekend plans?”

Bucky’s high-powered thoughts skid to a stop at the question, “What?”

Steve turns to him, blue eyes sincere and frown gone, “Plans. Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Uh. No.” Bucky glances around the apartment, “I usually just spend my weekends here, unless I’m going bar-hopping with Natasha. Why?”

“Would you like to take a trip with me?” Steve asks, “I have a business affair to take care of in Carolina. I leave at ten.”

“Am?” Bucky returns.

“Yes, as in-.” Steve checks the clock on the DVR, “Two and a half hours from now.”

“Sure I won’t be a bother?” Bucky wonders.

Steve looks affronted, “Of course not. It’ll be good to get out. Clear your head. The program moves slowly, but even the smallest of things can set you off. It’s always better to separate yourself.”

Bucky snickers, “You sound like Banner.”

“Well,” Steve chuckles, “He did help me when I returned. I’m only quoting him.”

Bucky nods, “Then yea. What the hell. I’ll go pack a duffle.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of his room. He gets up from the couch and reaches for his plate, but Steve shakes his hand and gathers the dishes up himself.

“Go on. You cooked. I clean.”

Bucky smiles and heads for his room. He expects it to smell musty and like hours old vomit, but it smells clean and the window is cracked a smidge. He sends Amy a mental thank you, closes the window and rummages around in his closet for one of his many army bags.

It takes him all of ten minutes to pack and another five to take a quick shower and meet Steve by the elevator.

Steve changed too, into a dark blue shirt and jeans. He looks relaxed and ready for a vacation, despite it being a business trip. He’s also on the phone, eyes rolled up into his eyebrows.

“No Tony.”

Those blue eyes roll once again, “I said no. Where is Pepper and why are you in her office.”

A few seconds tick by and Steve makes a face, “Gross. Tell her I’m taking Bucky to Carolina. We will be back Sunday. She can text me. Also, next time, just don’t answer the phone.” He hangs up with a sneer, “Bunnies.”

Bucky lets out a laugh, “In her office?”

Steve presses the elevators buttons, “In the office. In his office. In the car sometimes.” He shrugs, “You get used to it.”

“Doesn’t surprise me in the least.” Bucky states, stepping into the elevator after Steve, “I should probably call Sam too.”

“Go ahead.”

Bucky makes the call quickly and before he knows it they climbing into one of Steve’s cars. The drive to the airport is quick, and Bucky stands in awe as flight attendants take their bags and usher them into the plane. Steve settles into a seat near the front and Bucky takes one across from him.

A female brunette attendant walks over with a smile, “Anything to drink, Mr. Rogers? Mr. Barnes?”

“Water for now.” Steve returns her smile before glancing at Bucky.

“Something fizzy.” Bucky grins.

The attendant laughs, “Alright. My name is Ariel, should you need me only shout.” She walks away swiftly.

Bucky sinks back into the seat as the pilot runs through his safety speech, followed by the attendant’s speech.

Steve pulls a tablet from his carry-on, frowning at it as he swipes and grumbles. Bucky waits for him to finish what he’s doing before asking, “Work?”

“Unfortunately.” Steve replies, “Might as well tell you were we are going.” He clears his throat, “Tony and I can fund Winter Solider for years, with our combined funds, but we still need sponsors. They help usher in more money, better resources.” He sets the tablet aside just as Ariel returns with their drinks. He waits for her to walk away before launching back into his explanation, “We are going to meet with Stephen Strange.”

Bucky chokes on his champagne, “Wait, _the_ Strange?”

“The one and only,” Steve nods, “He’s….an old friend.”

“That’s some old money he comes from.” Bucky mutters, “Everyone knows about his…accident.”

Steve sighs solemnly, “Yes, well, he turned down the proposal at the last meeting. I practically had to beg Pepper to set up a face-to-face meeting without a boardroom filled with investors.”

“And he agreed?”

“Reluctantly, I’d assume.” Steve chuckles, “No man can resist Pepper for very long.”

“Any reason he would turn it down?” Bucky ventures.

Steve glances out the window, “Quite a few turned us down. Tony, Pepper, and myself prioritized which ones we should pursue further and which to just cut off. There’s no telling why Stephen turned us down. Maybe personal reasons.” He shrugs, “Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Alright. Well, this is my first trip to Carolina. Anything interesting to do while you’re in your meeting?”

Steve raises an eyebrow slowly, “You don’t want to meet him?”

Yes. Bucky thinks stubbornly. Who doesn’t want to meet famous people? He just grins at Steve instead, “It’s not my business.”

“You’re the face of the project.” Steve insists, “You’d be more of a help than a hurt.”

Bucky nods, “Alright then.”

The flight isn’t long. It’s only an hour or two before they are touching down at the Ashland airport. They thank Ariel for her service and she blushes and Bucky is surprised when she hands him a slip of paper with her phone number on it.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on the back of his neck as he winks at her, “I’ll think about it, doll.”

“You have a way with women.” Steve mutters as they walk towards a tinted black car parked near the plane.

“Always have.” Bucky shrugs, “The number has dwindled since this.” He points to his missing arm.

Steve only frowns at that as he pops the back door open and allows Bucky to slip into the car before him. Bucky marvels at the interior of said car. It is sleek black leather and silver trim, with a mini bar emerging from the center console of the driver’s seat. He settles down on the right side and glances over at Steve.

“Your cars are nowhere near this….luxurious.”

Steve smiles, “Strange insisted we use his transportation while we are here. Even offered to put us up at one of his hotels.”

“But-.?” Bucky can hear the but in the sentence.

“I already have accommodations for us.” Steve grins, motioning for the driver to go ahead.

The car pulls out of the airport in a matter of minutes and Bucky is staring at an endless landscape of colors. The land around them is lush with trees, waterfalls, and old buildings with multi-colored siding.

“I have an old friend out here. He was a sniper during my army days.” Steve explains, “He keeps to himself mostly, has three kids, lives in a damn cottage.”

“Cozy.” Bucky is secretly thankful they aren’t staying in a hotel. No press. No harassing questions. Just a quiet home in a beautiful city. He glances at Steve, who is relaxed in his seat and staring out at the scenery.

Fuck, he is so gone.

Steve is gorgeous against the backdrop of colored leaves and blue sky. It’s almost too much to watch, because Bucky doesn’t deserve that kind of beauty in his life. Not after all the ugly. Not with three am panic attacks and anger issues about losing a limb.

Steve is a well maintained classic car and Bucky is a junkyard mess about to be crushed into a cube from PTSD.

He sighs inwardly and tries to enjoy the rest of the drive.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

“Have you found him?” The voice is heavy with an accent he can’t place. It crackles through the cellphone up to his ear and he can hear a train whistle in the background.

“Yes, sir.” He replies automatically.

“Where?”

“North America. He is all over the television.” He casts his eyes down to the newspaper clippings scattered across his desk. All with Barnes plastered across the front, paragraphs worth of rambling about Veterans of war treated fairly. He sneers at it, “He’s something of a celebrity.”

“Hmm.” The voice grunts angrily, “How hard will it be to reach him? To get him alone?”

“Harder than finding him laid out in the snow.” He snaps, “He’s under the protection of not only Rogers, but Tony Stark and SHEILD. That’s no pony show, sir.”

“Are you incapable of completing your mission, Rumlow?” The voice hisses angrily.

He grits his teeth, curls his fist against his leg, “Of course not, sir.”

“I want him reset and ready in two weeks. Call me when he’s in your custody.”

The line goes dead and Rumlow snaps the flip phone shut.

 

 

 


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is actually a hermit. Steve can't make up his mind. Strange is kind of an asshole. Bucky would like to know what the hell is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a week ago, but I have had the worst luck for almost four weeks and its finally calmed down enough to where I can post this.  
> Bad luck has included:  
> Two card frauds.  
> 3000 in repairs for my SUV (the dealership sold me a LEMON)  
> Constant car problems with our other cars  
> And so many other things it makes my head spin.  
> So enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed the break it gave me from all this MESS the universe has thrown at me.

Chapter Seven

Clint Barton prefers his life in solitude. He likes cold glasses of lemonade, his daughters smile, and chopping wood to retro music. Which is what he’s doing, his golden mutt at his side, when a black car rolls down his gravel driveway and parks in front of his two-story cottage. 

He drops the axe into his stump, snagging his sweat rag from the back pocket of his jeans and starts walking over to greet his guests. 

Steve had texted him a few hours ago, asking if he and the resident soldier boy could stay the weekend. He would never dream of turning Steve down for something so simple, so he helped his family pack up and they happily went to visit grandparents. It didn’t hurt that Natasha spoke very highly of said solider. 

Steve emerges from the car first, grin splitting his face and looking happier than the last time Clint saw him. Clint can’t keep the smile off of his own face as they clasp hands.

“Thank you for this.” Steve says.

“You’d do the same.” Clint nods to Bucky as he exits behind Steve, “You must be Barnes, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bucky nods once, “You’re awesome for letting us stay, Clint. Does Nat know you live a double life up here?”

“I owe a lot of favors to Steve.” Clint smirks, “He only calls them in every decade or so. As for Nat, well, I’m her cover story when she’s out of the dating game. Roguish archer living in the woods? Turns them away every time.”

Bucky just chuckles.

“The kids here?” Steve asks, glancing at the house.

“Nope.” Clint shakes his head, “Just us. Figured you two could use a little fresh air, without children climbing up your legs. You know how much they love you.” He motions them to follow.

Steve thanks the driver and retrieves their bags from the trunk, before the car drives away. They follow Clint up into the house and he gives them a quick tour of the house. It’s a quaint little place, but he calls it home. 

He scratches the back of his head as he leads them to the only spare bedroom he has, “I’d offer one of the kids rooms, but the beds are a little on the small side.”

“It’s fine.” Steve says.

“Yea, I’m sure Steve won’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Bucky grins, taking his bags from Steve and heading to unpack his toiletries in the bathroom. 

“I always liked him,” Clint muses, “Something happen with the press to hide him away up here?”

Steve shakes his head, “Just giving him a step back from the stress of the program. He had a rough night.” 

Clint nods, “Had a lot of those yourself.”

“And you.” Steve murmurs, “I really do mean it, thank you.”

“And I mean it. Anytime.” Clint pats his shoulder, “The wife put a roast on before she left, so dinner’s in a few hours. Get settled in. I’ll be outside with Lucky.”

Steve nods and Clint closes the door on the way out.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“Mind if I shower?” Bucky calls from the bathroom, “I smell like airplane.”

“Go ahead.” Steve replies, staring around the guest room and trying not to think of Bucky stripping down a few feet away. He closes his eyes at the mental image and wills his body to stand down. He can control this. 

Of course he knew Clint only had one spare room. One bed. He’s an adult and he can control his desire. Because it doesn’t matter how badly he wants Bucky, it isn’t going to happen. 

He steps out onto the balcony and dials Sam’s number quickly.

“ _ Wilson _ .”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

Sam sighs, “ _ Is this about Barnes _ ?”

Steve pouts, “No.”

“ _ Sure it’s not _ .” He can practically hear Sam roll his eyes, “ _ Look, you want the guy. I’m not blind. Did Tony tell you hands off?” _

Steve side eyes the bedroom, the bathroom door is still closed, “Of course he did.”

“ _ Did he make fun of you _ ?”

Steve’s silence is apparently enough, so Sam continues, “ _ Fuck Stark, okay? But shit, Steve, don’t call all your booty contacts just because you want to bang your roommate _ .”

“Eloquent.” Steve mutters darkly. 

“ _ It’s the truth _ .”

Steve rubs his temples, “I can control this.”

“ _ It’s not about control _ .” Sam supplies, “ _ And you know it. Bye Steve.” _

The line clicks and Steve glowers at the cell phone until he hears the bathroom door open. He turns around against the rail as Bucky steps out into the room, dressed comfy in sweats and a plain red t-shirt. He sends Steve a grin before jumping onto the large bed. 

Steve walks back into the room, sliding the glass door behind him.

“Business call?”

“No.” Steve replies, “Just Sam.” He grabs a change of clothes and motions to the shower, “Checking in and stuff, be out in a few.”

He closes himself off into the bathroom and breathes in the humid air around him. It smells like old spice soap and wet skin. He wonders if this is what Bucky’s bathroom always smells like after a shower. The urge forget the shower, crawl into the bed with Bucky and find out if his skin tastes as good as it probably smells is so strong Steve has to physically hold on to the towel rack to steady himself. 

He shakes his head and leans over to flip the shower on.

_ You can control this. _

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bucky closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Steve showering. He can also hear Clint downstairs in the kitchen and the birds outside the balcony door chirping. He suddenly can’t remember the last time he just breathed and listened to everything around him. Between work and holing himself up in his apartment to keep out people, he never had time to just appreciate the fact that he came home from overseas alive. 

The shower shuts off and he pushes himself up in the bed to wait for Steve to get dressed and walk down with him to dinner. 

Clint pokes his head in as Steve exits to remind them it’s all ready and if they both wanted a beer to go with the meal.

Bucky declines, Steve accepts and they walk down to the dining room together. 

The roast smells delicious. Bucky fixes himself a plentiful helping and takes a seat on the right of Steve. 

“My wife makes the best roast.” Clint sighs happily. 

“I can’t believe you’re married.” Bucky shakes his head, “Nat has been telling me for years that you two have been dating since we were kids.”

Clint shrugs, “We did date for a long, long while.” He smiles dopily, “She was my first love after all, but she had other plans and when I was discharged from the Army because of my hearing,” He taps the aid on his ear, “I wanted to settle down. She didn’t.” 

Steve smiles, “I introduced him to his wife at a Veterans ball.”

“Never went back.” Clint says, “But occasionally, Nat and I get together and she uses me as a cover.” He points a fork at Bucky, “She’s hiding something from you, bud.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. Natalia’s never lied to him in all their time together, so why now?

“In other news,” Clint begins, “What time do you two need to be at Strange HQ?”

Steve swallows his mouthful, “Eight am.”

Clint groans, “That’s so early.”

“How is that early?” Bucky snorts.

“Not everyone keeps to their military schedule.” Clint scowls, “I think you should just call your car back in the morning.”

Steve laughs, “Alright.”

They finish the rest of dinner in companionable silence and by then it’s well past nine. Clint locks up the house and heads to his room at the other end of the hall, while Bucky and Steve slip into the guest bedroom.

Bucky sinks onto his side of the bed with a deep sigh and watches Steve do the same, setting his arms behind his head and watching the ceiling. 

“Thanks again for bringing me along.” Bucky mutters, staring over at the blonde. 

Steve’s eyes shift over to him from the top of his bicep, “You needed the break.”

Bucky lets out a dry laugh, “I’m barely a month into this entire therapy and I already need to step back? Because of a panic attack?”

“The dreams aren’t going to stop, Buck.” Steve whispers, “They only get worse as you progress. And if your file is as locked tight as they say it is-.”

“My file is locked?” Bucky sits up suddenly and his stomach roils unpleasantly.

Steve shoots him a bewildered look, “You didn’t know?”

“How the hell are you authorized to let me do this program, Steve?” He hisses, “You can’t do it without my damn military file.”

Steve scowls, “Tony and I bent a few rules, it’s not a crime.”

“Not a-.” Bucky shoves his hand through his hair, “It isn’t fair to the men and women who have accessible files.”

Steve sits up slowly, “Do you know why your file is locked?”

Bucky swallows thickly, cotton in his throat as he remember the dream, the hazy helicopter ride back to the base. People shouting around him. His arm screaming. He stares at Steve.

“I was a POW.”

Steve curses, “Fuck. Fuck of course.”

“Who told you it was locked?” Bucky asks.

“Phillips.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Of course, he runs the department, but who actually locked it.”

“Phil Coulson. Pentagon.”

Bucky’s stomach drops out of his body, through the bed and onto the floor. He remembers Agent Coulson. Blonde. Firm. Strict. Stared at Bucky like he wasn’t even human at first, couldn’t blame him, Bucky had barely felt human at the time.

“I don’t remember much of my time as a prisoner.” 

“But you dream about it.” Steve says.

Bucky nods, “All the time.”

Steve seems to hesitate at first, watching Bucky, then the wall, then back to Bucky, “Are you comfortable telling me, or do you wanna wait to see Banner on Monday?”

“Not yet, Steve.” Bucky mutters.

Steve nods, “Of course.”

They both slip under the covers and Bucky rolls to face his side of the wall. All he wants to do is curl around Steve’s big body and tell him everything. The dreams, the fuzzy memories, the phantom pain in his shoulder where his arm should be. He doesn’t want to just dump it all on his boss. Steve is breaking the rules of the program just to get Bucky’s head on straight.

Burdening him with Bucky’s guilt and baggage isn’t any way to treat the man who holds your sanity in the palm of his hands.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The valet that dropped them off at Clint’s shows up bright and early Saturday morning, greeting Steve and Bucky with a warm smile.

Clint moans from the front steps, holding a pot of coffee, Lucky panting happily at his feet. 

“We’ll be back later this evening.” Steve chuckles, “Try not to hurt yourself until that entire pots slugging through your veins.”

Clint waves them off irritably and they climb into the back of Stranges’ tinted car. 

It takes roughly an hour to get to Strange headquarters and Steve hasn’t been down here in so long he forgot how modest the building was. Which is a lie, because Stephen strange has almost a Stark quality to his buildings, except it’s not a giant tower in the middle of a city. It’s a large, oval shaped building made of nothing but reflecting glass. 

“Is he trying to blind people?” Bucky grunts.

“It’s some sort of illusion, I think.” Steve shrugs, “Strange has a fascination with science.”

“It’s borderline obsessive.” The drive sighs, “Not to speak out of turn.”

“Oh, by all means.” Steve chuckles, “We all know Stephen’s habit.”

The driver nods solemnly and pulls into the front circle, “Here we are boys. Just give me a ring when you’re all down and I’ll take you where you want to go.”

“Thanks.” Bucky and Steve chorus, exiting the car and stepping up to the sliding glass doors with ‘Strange Enterprises’ etched into the glass.

Steve steps through them first, a blast of cold air and incense filling his head. The front area is a startling shade of light blue, with imported rugs and a reception desk a mile long, with three women and one man behind it. The waiting area to the right is golden chairs and a smattering of suited men seated. 

“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Steve replies, “You can see why we are so eager to have him fund the project, Strange isn’t exactly hurting for money.”

They step up to the front desk together and the man greets them with a bright smile, teeth whiter than the button up he’s wearing, “How can I help you gentlemen?”

One of the women, a red-head rolls her eyes, “Arian, that’s Steve Rogers and don’t you watch the news, the Winter Soldier is right next to him.” 

Arian scowls at her, “I was only being polite.”

“It’s alright.” Steve waves a hand, “I am here to see Strange.”

“Of course,” Arian nods, “Abigail, take them up to the main board room.”

A woman with bright pink hair rises from her seat and comes around the other side of the desk, “Follow me, boys.”

They do just that and Steve watches Bucky take in the rooms around him as they walk down the hall, up a small flight of stairs and down a walkway hovering above a crystal pool of Koi.

“When I die, bury me here.” Bucky hisses.

Steve lets out a startled laugh. 

Abigail motions them into a smallish room facing a snow-capped mountain, “Doctor Strange will be in shortly.”

They nod and take a seat next to one another on the left side of a long, oak table. The chairs are as comfy as Steve remembers. Bucky is still in awe as he stares out the large window behind them.

Not a minute later a man enters the room, black cloak around his shoulders and dressed in a star scattered blue shirt, ironed black pants and shiny loafers. His skin is the same shade of tan as Tony’s and it looks as though Tony’s light-hearted quip about ‘facial hair buddies’ didn’t get to him, because Stephens matching patch of beard is still there.

Steve and Bucky rise to shake his hand.

“Steven.” Strange smiles, using both of his hands to shake theirs, “And James Barnes, a pleasure.”

He takes a seat at the head of the table and they follow suit. 

“It’s good to see you again, Stephen.” Steve nods, “Thank you for allowing for this meeting on a weekend.”

Strange waves his hand, “Nonsense, I work ninety percent of my weekends anyway.” He clasps his hands on the table, “I assume this about the Winter Soldier project and my rejection at the last meeting?”

Steve nods slowly, “We realize that it is a lot to ask-.”

“I’ll do it of course.” 

Steve’s brain skids to a stop, “What?” He supplies dumbly.

“I’ll run the campaign.” He lifts a finger, “I’ll donate money for the research team on brain damage victims, but on one condition.”

Steve doesn’t like this at all, “A campaign.”

Strange nods, “As flashy as it sounds and will mostly likely be, after leaving the meeting, I sat with my secretary and we discussed the pros and cons of contacting you for a private meeting.”

“You want to run a campaign.” Steve is still stuck on it, his brain repeating it like a broken record as he turns to Bucky, who looks nervous.

“A campaign as in….” Bucky begins.

“A photoshoot, magazine cover, spread piece.” Strange ticks off his fingers, “Etcetera. Etcetera. Sponsored by me of course,” He waves his hand, “Publicity that will bring more money in for me and in turn gives me the funds to keep your research department funded throughout Mr. Barnes recovery process.”

Steve clenches his jaw, “We don’t want him plastered all over the front of magazines Strange. He’s a war hero, not a dancing monkey.”

“Take it or leave it, Rogers.” Strange supplies, “I’ll have my people send Pepper my paperwork and contract and she can amend it as she sees fit. If I deny it, we continue until we reach an agreement. When it’s signed, I’ll wire the money to your program.” 

“We will need to think about this.” Steve stands.

Bucky rises slowly beside him, “Thanks for your time.”

Strange nods, “Enjoy the city. Tell Fabrir that he is at your disposal until you leave.”

Steve nods back and they exit the board room. 

Fabrir, the driver, is already waiting for them at the front, doors open and ready.

Steve is pissed. 

He takes a seat in the car and clenches his fist on top of his knee as he watches Bucky climb in silently and buckle up. 

“Is it really so bad?” Bucky asks gently.

“You’re not a freak show for people to gawk at.” Steve hisses, “That is exactly why we wanted each public appearance monitored and professional. A magazine isn’t going to give you the privacy you need. It’s going to put a target on your head.”

“Then let's go back and weigh the pros and cons.” Bucky sets a hand over Steve’s clenched fist, “I agreed to this, Steve. Imagine what that funding could do for people.”

“Not at the cost of your privacy.” Steve snaps.

Bucky removes his hand, “Call Pepper. Let’s get something to eat.”

Steve nods once and takes out his phone, dialing quickly as Bucky tells Fabrir to take them somewhere local and delicious.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Damage control is Pepper Potts specialty. 

Dealing with Tony Stark from a young age can give you that experience, and now that she runs the company for him, it’s less messy. However, she should have foreseen the consequences to asking for Strange’s help. He was the only one so far to offer a deal. 

She sighs and rubs her temples as she reads and re-reads the papers Stranges’ secretary emailed over. James would be in very high end magazines, which in its own way is good and bad. He would be bombarded with press everywhere he went. No privacy. No breathing room.

It could compromise the entire program. 

He could very well go backward instead of forward in the healing aspect. 

She decides to call Banner.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Bucky’s stomach is tied into knots by the time they get back to Clint’s house. Steve is still seething beside him, blue eyes sharp and hot as they scowl out the window at the passing scenery. 

Clint can tell right away that it didn’t go well and mutters something about chicken and dumplings for dinner before shuffling away. 

Steve bounds to the bedroom and Bucky follows quietly behind him. 

Once the door is shut, Steve rounds on him and Bucky kind of wants to throw up everything they ate for lunch now. 

“Say that you don’t want to do this. I’ll call Strange right now and tell him to go fuck himself.”

It makes Bucky laugh, “Steve, we haven’t even had a meeting with Tony and Pepper yet.”

“This is dangerous publicity, Buck.”

Bucky warms at the name, smiling at Steve, “I know. I can tell. You’re very worked up.” 

Steve tugs at his hair, huffing out a breath and pacing around the room, “I knew he’d be a pain, but this. This is just.” He releases another puff of angry air. 

Bucky watches, amused as Steve’s temper simmers in the air around them. 

“I feel like I should have Nat introduce you to yoga.” Bucky muses.

Steve stops pacing and stares at Bucky. His anger is palpable in the room and Bucky can see the restraint bunched up in Steve’s posture. Behind that tailored suit is pure muscle holding back a hell of a lot of rage. Steve’s too good to let it out though. Not on a person. 

The blond steps forward, into Bucky’s space and shit. Shit shit shit. He knows that look. Those hot blue eyes are angry, sure, but there’s something else behind the irritation that Bucky recognizes as arousal. 

“I don’t need yoga.” Steve grounds out, voice rough and thick as he takes Bucky’s face in his hands. 

Bucky sees the question and answers it with a throaty ‘yes’ as Steve tilts his head and slants his mouth over Bucky’s. 

He can feel Steve’s hands trembling at his jawline as his mouth plunders Bucky’s. Bucky knows he’s making embarrassing sounds, groans and huffs of pleasure around Steve’s tongue. The kiss is as amazing as Bucky’s imagined for the last few months, but it’s restrained. Steve’s holding back somehow and Bucky can’t quite put his finger on what it is. 

Steve strokes his thumb over Bucky’s cheek as he pulls back, then dives back in for another kiss. 

They trade slick kisses for a while before Steve presses his forehead to Bucky’s, eyes closed and shoulders only slightly less tense than before. 

Bucky’s panting, hands clutching the lapels of Steve’s suit, wrinkling the expensive fabric. 

“Been waiting on that.” Bucky croaks.

Steve’s eyes open and his smile is sad, “Yes. Overdue and very inappropriate.”

Bucky shoves down the disappointment, “No repeat then.”

“I can’t do that with you, Buck.” Steve whispers, “Not yet. Not now. I can’t ask it of you.”

Bucky is confused, “Sex isn’t going to trigger my PTSD, Steve.”

“That’s not.” Steve takes a step back, and Bucky instantly misses his hands and his warmth, “That’s not why.”

“Then what?” Bucky asks, impatient, “What is going on?”

Steve finally takes a solid step back and the moment is gone, the heat, his anger, is still there, but banked.

“I’ll be back in a little while.” He turns and leaves the room.

Bucky wishes he still had his left arm, so he could put both of his fists through the wall. 

-0-0-0-0-

“Are the bags still in the old barn?” Steve asks as he enters the kitchen, where Clint is stirring a pot of dumplings.

“Yep. Are you going to work out your sexual frustration on my poor boxing bags?”

“Fuck you.” Steve snaps, storming out of the kitchen.

Clint snorts, “I’ll take that as a yes.”


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's confused about the kiss. Steve's being a shit. Pepper is a badass. Crossbones tries his luck.

**Chapter Eight**

 

 

September is the entrance to Bucky’s favorite time of year. The leaves start changing and everything switches from bright summer colors to cool, autumn oranges and yellows. Banner suggested at their last meeting that he set up his cat scan appointment and start a daily running routine.

Sam is at his side, watching the door, arms crossed over his chest and posture guarded. The nurse behind the front desk is watching them warily, hand hovering over the phone in case they make a wrong move.

“Looks nervous, doesn’t she?” Sam mutters.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “You look like you’re going to start drop kicking people.”

Sam frowns, “I’m doing my job.”

“It was one time.”

“It happened three days ago and Steve fussed at me for two hours.” Sam turns to him and holds two fingers in his face, making Bucky go cross-eyed, “Two hours Bucky. He had you for three days and you came back without a scratch!”

“We were in a cabin in the middle of the woods.” Bucky defends, “You watch me in public. She was just over zealous.”

Sam mutters, ‘over zealous my ass’ under his breath as he turns away.

Bucky shrugs, “Pepper warned me that some people would get too attached to the story.”

Sam hisses, “Too attached? She thought she was in love with you. Are you actually considering Strange’s offer? You’ll end up with more than just her.”

“Pepper and Steve are considering the options and my safety.” Bucky reminds him, “The choice is mine, yea, but they still have to make sure all avenues are crossed out before they give me their pitch.”

“Where’s Stark in all this?” Sam snorts.

“He’s off waving his hands in people’s faces.” Bucky replies, “Trying to get the last few sponsors to sign on.”

“Maybe he can get it without selling his soul.”

Bucky groans and tosses his head back against the wall in frustration. Sam’s a good guy, a great guy even. Steve trusts him with Bucky’s life and after the last month of Sam having his back, Bucky trusts him too.

He’s being too hard on himself, Bucky thinks. The strange blond who assaulted him with too much perfume and flowers and a speech of undying love was nothing compared to what he went through overseas. Fucked memory or not, she was small fry. But it did raise the question of, ‘how many more’ and ‘will the danger become real after the press?’

He instead decides to divert the topic to something he hadn’t even spoken to Banner about.

“Steve kissed me.”

Sam is finally relaxing and raising a cup of coffee to his face when he says it. The sputtering and coughing is pretty funny.

“He what?”

“After we got back to Barton’s place. Steve kissed me.” Bucky repeated.

“I-uh-how was it?” Sam asks tentatively.

“Great. Fantastic.” Bucky sneers, “Except for him calling it ‘inappropriate’ and leaving me high and dry with some bullshit excuse.”

Sam seems hesitant at first, staring down into his coffee, “Barnes, you have to remember, Steve’s a vet just like you and me.” He sighs, “He’s got his own issues and some of them are-.” He groans, “You gotta ask him yourself.”

“He won’t tell me.” Bucky says, “Been avoiding me since we got back.”

“Wait till he’s ready.” Sam whispers, “Just….give him some time.”

Bucky gives another shrug and focuses on the TV in the corner of the waiting room. The nurse behind the desk finally gave up her nervous waiting and returned to the furious typing from before they entered.

They wait another twenty minutes before a male nurse opens the door and calls his name.

He leads them down a hallway to the room where a doctor is waiting inside. The nurse turns to them, “Mr. Wilson, you may stand out here in the hall. Only the technician, the doctor, and Mr. Barnes are allowed to stay in the room.”

Sam nods once and posts himself on the right of the door, as close to the handle as possible.

The nurse lets Bucky into the room, hands him is chart and scurries down the hall towards the waiting room to get the next patient.

Bucky hears the door snick closed behind him and the doctor glances up from the folder in his hands.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky nods slowly, glancing around the room.

The doctor notices, “The only exit is that door.” He points to the one Bucky just entered.

He is suddenly not comfortable being in the room. Instinct tells him to bolt.

The doctor raises his hands, “The scan only takes a few moments. You’ll be in and out within thirty minutes. Wilson is right outside.”

Bucky hates being treated like a caged animal. Hates the anxiety and the nerves and the primal survival urge that never leaves his person.

He needs this though. He needs this program. He needs to know what the scan is going to show.

He hands the doctor his chart and moves to stand beside the MRI bed. The doctor helps him settle onto it and hesitates at the straps, Bucky silently thanks whatever god is up there that they doesn’t strap him down.

“Stay as still as you can.” The doctor nods to the technician behind the glass and leaves the room.

The machine whirls to life around him, a large vibrating mass of machinery. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nausea that boils low in his stomach. The bed moves back slowly and the anxiety spikes to a dangerous level.

He inhales slowly.

_You will not have a panic attack right now. You will not have a panic attack right now._

Think of Steve.

Kind eyes and a beautiful smile. The urgency in the kiss from Saturday. Warm, solid hands shaking against the side of his face and the smell of faded cologne and ocean water.

“All done, Mr. Barnes. Well done.” The doctor comes around through the door to the control room and helps him up from the table. “We will send the results to Doctor Banner in a few hours and go from there.”

Bucky nods and sits on the bed. His arms are shaking. For all that he practiced holding the attack back, his body doesn’t know the difference.

The doctor notices and calls Sam in from outside.

Sam is standing in front of him in a heartbeat, “You good, buddy?”

“Just a…small one.” Bucky mutters.

“Happens.” Sam states, “Bring it up with Banner when you discuss the scan. Wanna wait here for a bit?”

“Nah.” Bucky pushes up off the table and nods to the door, “I need food.”

Sam slaps his shoulder, “I know just the place. I’ll even see if Steve is free.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Marie’s diner is Steve’s favorite place to eat. He hasn’t taken anyone here but Sam, not even Tony. No women. None of his dates. None of his people.

Seeing Bucky across the booth next to Sam, grinning over a basket of Marie’s famous burger and fries twists something in his chest. In a good way. He nurses his strawberry milk shake while Sam explains to Bucky that para-rescue should be a bigger field opportunity for young pilots.

Bucky is sending him small smiles across the table, the fingers of his right hand rubbing the condensation on the glass of his own milkshake.

He won’t lie. He’s been steadily avoiding Bucky since Sunday when they returned from Clint’s. Not to the point of ignoring, but making a point that the kiss should not be brought up.

Ever.

Not again.

He can’t.

Sam is moving his hands to mimic one of his many rescue missions, but Bucky is watching Steve.

God, what had he done? Kissing Bucky was on the list of things he SHOULD NOT HAVE DONE. Now it’s all he can think about.

“And then Riley, man, you should have seen it!” Sam blurts, the pauses, “Are you two even listening?”

“I am.” Bucky shifts gears, “Hot air balloon. Damsel in distress.”

Sam frowns, “That’s not at all what I was saying.”

Steve lets out a burst of laughter and waves to the woman behind the counter, “Another round of milkshakes, Claire.”

The brunette laughs, “Yes, sir.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Sam drops them off at the complex and Steve stands stock still next to Bucky the entire ride up the elevator. It’s tense in a way that makes Bucky want to scream at Steve. Can’t they both just be adults and realize that one kiss doesn’t make the entire world implode?

Of course it does though, the traitorous voice in Bucky’s head insists, it changes everything.

He glances at Steve from the corner of his eye and sees him fiddling with his phone. He’s typing something and Bucky is just quick enough to read the ‘are you free later’ before the elevator dings and the screen fades out.

Ice slicks down the back of his throat as they exit the elevator and Bucky slinks to his room.

Steve’s probably trying everything to get away from him now. Inappropriate, Steve had called that kiss. It hadn’t felt that way. It kept Bucky from screaming inside a giant brain photo machine earlier today and Bucky isn’t going to let anything take that moment away from him.

He turns to Steve, who’s trying his best to make it to his room quickly.

Bucky clears his throat once and Steve freezes, hand over the knob of his door.

“We need to talk about this.”

“Not tonight, Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Now.”

Part of his recovery is demanding things from people he wouldn’t normally demand them from. Banner insisted he start speaking his mind instead of cowering behind excuses to keep silent.

Steve turns slowly, dropping his hand to his side and staring at Bucky helplessly, “I’m not ready.”

“Well I am.” Bucky steps forward, “We don’t need to date. We don’t need to do anything if you don’t want me.” He waves his only hand, “But shit, Steve, you can’t kiss a guy like that and expect him to forget about it. It’s not fair.”

Steve sighs heavily, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, “I know.”

“Then why the tiptoeing. Just explain and be done with it.”

Steve slides his hand over his face now, blue eyes closed and tight lines showing stress and hesitation. Bucky only feels a little bad for forcing the answer.

“We can’t do this because of me.” Steve begins, “I’m the one with the issues.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “Join the club.”

“No.” Steve is forceful, firm, “No more kissing. No more anything. I can’t do this. You’re here to recover and to heal, my interference is for business only.”

It’s not what Bucky wants to hear, but he can respect it. However disappointing it may be. He curls his hand into the material of his pants, sucking back the irritation at a still vague answer. Steve is watching him with his shoulders thrown back and stance damn near perfect. He’s pulling his Captain rank without really noticing it and Bucky just wants to fall to his knees and beg. For one last kiss. For a touch. For anything Steve is willing to give.

Which, as Steve put it so nicely, is going to be nothing.

“Fine.” Bucky nods once, “See you in the morning.”

He plans to turn around calmly, enter his room, take a shower and crawl into bed to forget this ever happened. Instead, he scowls at Steve before turning away and slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Mature, Buck, real mature.

He hears Steve sigh again on the other side, muttering something unintelligible before his bedroom door opens and closes gently.

Bucky stares at his room. It’s lit only by the dying light outside, sheets tucked in neatly by Amy. He grabs a clean pair of boxers and a shirt from his dresser and heads into the bathroom for a quick shower.

His stomach is still tight from the confrontation, so he doesn’t even bother jerking off. It’s too much of a hassle and he just wants to go to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, after completing his evening routine, he crawls under the covers and sets the alarm on his bedside table.

He stares at the ceiling in the darkness, the fan above him swirling lazily as he listens intently for the sounds of anyone else in the apartment. No doors open, the elevator stays silent on its floor. Bucky closes his eyes and begs for good dreams.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

“Keep it quiet.” A voice snaps, “We do this with quick and clean.” He waves a hand at the shadows of the two men dressed in dark clothes, “Repeat the mission.”

“Silent entry. Retrieve the asset. Return to base.” They state in stereo.

“Excellent.” The man steps out of the darkness, features shadowed but defined by light. Most of his face is scarred heavily by burns, one eye limp and lips twisted into an ugly scowl. Without a word, he slips a mask over the horror of his face, its front painted with a white skull.

“Crossbones, is the building secure?” One inquires.

“Only for about two more minutes.” Crossbones replies, pulling out a cellphone and pressing a few buttons, “Starks tech is good, but not good enough.”

“What if the asset resists?”

Crossbones pulls a capped syringe from his front ammo pocket, “Oh he won’t.”

They stalk the edge of the building, Crossbones holding the phone steady as they rig grappling hooks to the edge of the alley side windows. Intelligence inside the building swear Barnes’s window is right around the sharp corner facing the street and Hydra doesn’t pay liars.

He reaches the window with ease and with a simple press of the button on his phone, disarms the alarm that protects the entire floor. He jimmies the window open within seconds, while the others watch the empty street below and slips through like a whisper.

The room is dark except for the red numbers reading two fifty nine on a table alarm clock. The asset is asleep in the bed buried under a thick, dark comforter. His other two men slip in behind him as he hovers at the edge of the bed and pulls the syringe from his pocket once again.

“Time to come home, soldier.” Crossbones whispers, jabbing the needle into Barnes arm.

The asset snaps awake, his only arm coming around and swiping at Crossbones head. He barely jerks away in time, only emptying half of the contents into the assets vein. Barnes sits up quickly, but even a small amount of the anesthetic renders him useless.

“Nighty night.” Crossbones smile is sick and slow and he enjoys the look of horror as Barnes collapses back onto the mattress.

“Tie him up.” He orders.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

Steve’s silent alarm jerks him awake at five past three in the morning. He sits up straight, staring at the screen sitting on the table beside his bed. It shows three red dots on the west end of the apartment.

He throws the blankets off of his body and snatches the handgun from the drawer by his bed. He moves slowly, silently through the apartment, snapping into corners and watching the shadowed areas closely. He slips up to Bucky’s door and listens for a heartbeat.

“Tie him up.”

Dread pools in Steve’s stomach and he doesn’t think, just takes the door down with his foot. He takes out one of the men with scary efficiency, causing the other two to jerk up from the bed where Bucky is knocked out.

“Drop your weapons.” Steve snarls.

“You said it was secure!” One hissed.

The man with the skull mask seems to be the one in charge, so Steve points the barrel at him, blue eyes steady, “I said drop your weapons.”

“Not happening.” Skull mask laughs, his own sidearm aimed at Steve.

“You have less than two minutes before security is here.” Steve warns, “I said, drop the weapons.”

It’s less than that, because he can hear the elevator ding behind him and skull mask’s shoulders tense. He fires once and Steve strikes back, despite the bloom of fire spreading through his right thigh. Skull mask snaps back from the shot, hand to his shoulder and the spare man drops Bucky to the ground and snatches Skull mask by the back of his shirt. They make a run for the window just as security bursts in.

“The asset is ours, Captain Rogers.” Skull mask threatens as they dart through the window.

As soon as security crowds the window and barks orders downstairs to watch for parachutes, Steve is across the room at Bucky’s side. He presses his fingers to the pulse on Bucky’s neck and wheezes out a breath at the slow, drugged pulse.

“Get me Stark, now!” Steve snaps.

One of the guards salutes and pulls out a phone, barking orders into it.

Steve lifts Bucky into his arms and shoulders his way through the security crowded in his home and sets him gently onto the couch.

Within thirty minutes, Tony, Pepper, and Sam have joined him in the room, along with a very angry Phil Coulson. Coulson is flanked by some scary-looking men in black suits.

Bucky is slowly coming too, a trashcan held between his knees as he wretches through the after effects of whatever drug they used to knock him out. Steve’s hands are a steady, slow presence running up and down Bucky’s back as Coulson shouts between Pepper and Tony.

He can’t hear anything being said, his brain is fuzzy and he watches as Bucky groans into the can. A shock of cold pulls him from the fuzz as he reaches up for the cold bottle of water Sam is pressing to his neck.

“Breathe.” Sam reminds him, squatting in front of Bucky, “Breathe through it.” His dark eyes snap to Steve, “You too, Captain.”

Steve manages a weak smile, hand still at the center of Bucky’s back. Bucky reaches for the second bottle of water Sam offers and drinks slowly.

“He’s coming with us.” Coulson snarls, “I warned Phillips what would happen if you poked your nose into something you shouldn’t have.” He points a finger at Steve, “You plastered him all over the media with your bullshit and now they know he’s stateside!”

Pepper steps between his finger and Steve, her eyes narrowed, “What Steve and Tony are doing isn’t ‘bullshit’, Agent Coulson.” She stabs a finger into his black suited chest, “You released a Prisoner of War into civilian life without so much as a second glance. If it is so important that he remain undetected, you would have ensured that he had been better taken care of upon his return.”

Coulson sputters, “My job was to make sure he kept his nose out of messes like this.”

“Bang up job.” Tony snorts, hands in his pockets, “This how you treat all of your security risks?”

Now Steve is paying attention, “Security risks?”

Tony shrugs, “I dug as far as I could, still couldn’t access his file, but I found enough to know that SHEILD, as they call themselves, needs good ole’ Barnes here to keep his yap shut.”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.” Bucky croaks, throat sore from vomiting, “I barely remember what happened.”

“Yea, so you’ve told us since the moment you stepped back onto American soil.” Coulson snips, “Conveniently.” He straightens his back, “He is coming with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky snaps, “So fuck you.”

Steve’s hand curls into his shirt, throat tight as he watches Coulson stare them down like they aren’t more than dirt on the floor. Bucky’s back is tense under his hand and Sam is standing in offense in front of them, ready in case the suited men surrounding Coulson decide to use force.

Coulson tugs at the bottom of his shirt, clearing his throat, “You have two days to pack your things, Sargent Barnes.”

As they leave, Pepper shoots them the bird and the elevator closes just as Coulson snaps around. He snarls, but it’s too late and the elevator begins its decent.

Everyone in the room relaxes instantly and Pepper rounds on them, “I have to make some phone calls.” She points to Steve and Bucky, “You two need to talk. I’m emailing you Strange’s papers. Sam and Tony, round up Natasha’s team and pull them.”

“Talk?” Bucky supplies helplessly, clutching the trashcan like a lifeline.

“Yes. I don’t know how they plan on taking you by force, but the more media attention you have, the less likely they are of getting access to you.” She starts punching numbers into her phone, “We promised to get your head on, Bucky.” Her voice is soft, “Look at the papers. It’s going to be rough, but whatever you know wasn’t important enough for them to protect you.”

“Whoever those guys were,” Sam states, “They would have found you eventually. Imagine if you had still been in your apartment.”

Steve feels a little queasy himself as he watches the realization cross Bucky’s pale features. Bucky ducks his head back into the bucket and vomits again, shoulders shaking.

Steve wraps his arm around the broad shoulders and closes his eyes.

Sam is on the phone now with Natasha, conversation quick, “Only those you can trust, Nat.” He insists, “This needs to be on a need-to-know basis only. We don’t know what we are dealing with yet.”

Once he’s hung up, Pepper tucks her phone away as well, “Whoever SHEILD is, they aren’t going to protect you. They’ll lock you up.”

“Who did you talk to?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

“An old friend.” She hedges, “Now, everyone clear out and give them some space.”

“I’ll hang out in here if you two want to go into Steve’s room to talk.” Sam offers, “Nat and her team will be here soon to stand guard.”

“Cool.” Tony struts to the elevator, “I’m going to the security office to rearrange some wires.”

Pepper follows him out and the room is finally quiet.

Sam takes the bucket from Bucky, “I’ve got this. Go.”

Steve rises slowly, taking Bucky’s arm and testing the waters of standing up. Bucky wobbles slightly, fingers curling around Steve’s bicep as he swallows and tries not to fall over.

“I got you, Buck.” Steve mutters, leading them into his bedroom. He nods at Sam as he shuts the door.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

If he thought panic attacks at three in the morning were bad, whatever the fuck Crossbones gave him was worse. He felt horrifically nauseous, body heavy, head clogged. His muscles were either too relaxed or too tight as he stumbled alongside Steve into the bedroom.

The room itself was a blessing, it was cool and dark, a complete contrast to the living room full of bright lights and the air of too many people.

Steve helps him sit on the edge of the bed and he enjoys the darkness for a moment.

“Lights off?” Steve ventures.

“Yea.” He mutters.

Steve takes a seat beside him and he dips just enough into the weight for his left side to press against Steve’s.

He swallows down another wave of bile, head pounding as he sighs, “Let’s just take the deal.”

Steve starts beside him, “You don’t even want to read the papers?”

He shakes his head, “What’s the point? Whatever Strange wants will be flashy enough to put me so far into the spotlight, Coulson will have to cross a shit ton of hoops just to get to me.”

“It’s dangerous.” Steve whispers, “Who knows what this could lead to. Whoever those men were-.”

Bucky clears his throat, “Crossbones. They called him Crossbones.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, “Is he-?”

“From when I was in captivity? Yea.” He can’t see it, can’t pull the memory itself, but he remembers the mask from his dreams, “I dream about him. He was one of them.”

Steve puts his face into his hands beside him, “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Bucky feels his eyes burning, “I shouldn’t have even offered myself for this.”

“Don’t apologize.” Steve hisses, “You have nothing to apologize for. Whoever did this to you-.” He’s shaking in rage beside him, Bucky can feel it.

A quick flashback to having Steve’s rage focused into a single, searing kiss, makes Bucky hum inside. He feels like absolute crap, but the memory sooths him. It’s better than the memories of his dreams. Blood and sharp instruments and screaming.

“Don’t let them take me.” His voice cracks.

Steve lifts his head slowly and Bucky can see the blue of his eyes in the darkness. There’s a resolve in those eyes and it makes his heart soar.

“Over my dead body.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

“ _How could you fail?!”_ A heavily accented voice snarls over the receiver of a cellphone held up to Crossbones’ ear.

He rolls his eyes, “I think you forgot who the asset is rooming with, Zola. Captain Rogers has instincts even I hadn’t predicted. I lost a good man.”

“ _I don’t give a shit about your little lapdogs_ ,” Zola hisses, “ _I want the asset in containment. He has been out far too long and he’s useless to us if he goes any further into that program_!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Crossbones snaps, “SHEILD was keeping him in the shittiest situation as possible to keep him a secret. He would have been perfect, but fucking Rogers and Stark snatched him up like the homeless dog he was.”

“ _GET ME THE ASSET_.” Zola snarls, “ _Or I’ll make sure you don’t make it back here alive_.”

The line disconnects and Crossbones contemplates tossing it into the ocean. He watches the cars pass from his spot on a park bench, arm slung over the back. The phone blinks with a message.

_Found Barnes old apartment. Still empty. No tenants._

He clicks his tongue and types, _anything left behind?_

_No._

_Start from square one then. Meet me in 20._

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Bucky wakes up in Steve’s bed, surrounded by Steve’s blankets and Steve’s big body. He blinks at the clock on the wall reading ten past 11 and wonders if it was a good idea to sleep in so long.

Steve shifts behind him, rolling onto his back and groaning.

Bucky sits up slowly and glances down at Steve, who’s watching the ceiling with clenched teeth, “Are you alright?” His eyes roam down Steve’s body and spots a dark stain on the sheets.

He strips them back and recoils at the dried blood on Steve’s thigh, “What the fuck Steve, you were shot?!”

Steve sits up slowly, “Just a graze, had Sam patch it. Musta reopened.”

“SAM.” Bucky shouts.

The door opens slowly, “You guys okay?” He peers around the corner, spots the blood, “Goddamnit Steve.”

“It’s fine.” Steve snaps.

“The fuck it is.” Bucky hisses, “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Steve puts a hand to his chest, “No hospitals!” His eyes are wide and the hand trembles ever so slightly over Bucky’s heart.

“I’ll go get the kit.” Sam mutters, vanishing from the doorway.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand slowly, “Okay. No hospital.”

“It’s just a graze.” Steve insists, “I’m sorry you had to wake up to it. It just reopened from Sam’s stitch job.”

Bucky frowns, “I don’t like that you just let people stitch you up when you’re injured.”

Steve lets out a soft laugh, “This doesn’t exactly happen often.”

Bucky feels doubtful, knowing Steve’s personality, but he just rises from the bed and goes to into the bathroom to wet a wash cloth. Sam is in the room when he returns, first aid kit in hand and a determined glint in his eyes as Steve shucks his pants and examines the wound.

It really is a graze, ripping through the outer thigh and leaving a gash. He hands Sam the rag as he sets about cleaning it with some alcohol and swabs. Steve hisses once, body tight and eyes focused on Sam.

“Doing real good Steve.” Sam mutters and the moment is suddenly too intimate. The tone of voice, the way Steve’s face softens, it does the same damage to Bucky’s diaphragm as a punch. He swallows, glances to the door, and begins to plan an escape speech.

Then Steve looks up at him, lashes long and eyes so fucking blue they stop his breath for a full second. The look is far more intimate than Sam’s words and it pools around Bucky’s spine like liquid fire.

Somethings going to change, he mind hisses, Steve’s going to change everything about you.

And God, he fucking hopes so.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, let me apologize for the long ass wait for this chapter. College sucks and this semester I had to work on top of it, so I had almost zero time to write anything.   
> But schools out and I'm hoping to get this baby back on track.   
> Forgive any mistakes, I'll be going over it with a fine tooth comb later, but my Beta reader is busy with finals and work so I'm on my own.  
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky speaks his mind. A discussion is had. The plot actually starts moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late Christmas present for you. The timeline for this is behind, because it's not even December yet in this. But Merry Christmas anyway.

**Chapter Nine**

 

“Comfortable?” Natasha whispers from his right side.

Bucky glances up from watching another red-head straighten his silver tie, “I hate suits and you know it.”

Nat shrugs and slips a hand down the side of her black number. She looked every inch a woman but he knows of at least three different places she was carrying a weapon. She was his date for the opening dinner of Strange’s deal with the Winter Soldier project. She was also the guard assigned to him should anything arise, weird Russian kidnappers included.

He can see Steve and Sam across the room, both nursing glasses of scotch and talking with heads bent close. The jealously swirling in his stomach is crushed by Tony stepping into his view, grin enhanced by his goatee. He’s dressed in a sharp black suit, red tie, and golden cufflinks. Pepper is in a striking mauve dress at his side.

“Ready?” She whispers hesitantly.

He nods, “Yea. Run me through the night again.”

She pulls out an impressive looking tablet device as Natasha links her arm through his. “First up is the introduction, which Strange will be doing. Then he will announce his participation in the project. You’ll go up, make your speech-.” She pauses, looks up, “You have your note cards?”

Natasha pats his suit pocket, “Yep.”

“Good.” Pepper nods, “You’ll make your own speech. Then we will introduce you to the different people you’ll be dealing with.”

“Okay.” He swallows nervously.

Natasha squeezes his arm and Pepper smiles gently, “We have Banner on standby should you have a need of him after the speech.”

His shoulders loosen considerably at that, “Thanks.”

“This entire thing was supposed to help you.” Tony sighs, “I feel like all of this is a step backwards.”

“Don’t you usually love the spotlight, Tony?” Sam jests, walking up with Steve in tow.

“Ha ha.” Tony rolls his eyes, “I don’t have a severe case of the ‘the government left me to die and now I’m fucked up in the head’. This is all bullshit to me.”

Bucky chuckles, “You’re concern is touching.”

He feels Steve’s hand land on his left shoulder, “Are you sure? We can still back out.”

Bucky glances up at him, “Yes. A short speech, a few magazine interviews, more publicity for the project.” He takes in a deep breath, “I’m not the only vet out there who needs help.”

Steve nods once, then to Pepper, who spins on her heels and starts relaying orders into a walkie talkie.

Steve’s hand is a warm, steady reminder that he can do this. Hell, if he does this well, maybe Steve will reward him with another one of those breathy ‘you’re amazing’ from his first banquet dinner.

The thought warms him slightly and he watches Strange take his place on the stage. The introduction is short, sweet and witty, kinda like the man himself. The entire hall is at rapt attention and he reminds himself to try and not be the awkward dumbass he normally is in front of large groups.

“This project will bring amazing results to POW’s and many other Veterans and active duty service men and woman who are not afforded adequate healthcare opportunities upon separation.” Strange states firmly, “And while this project is in its beginning stages of adulthood, Stark and Rogers has given us a face for the newly bloomed project, one James Barnes. A recently returned veteran and amputee.” He waves a hand shortly at Bucky, who straightens his shoulders and slips out from Natasha and Steve’s grips.

The stage looks so far away and he can feel the eyes burning on him. This isn’t a press conference. This isn’t a room full of bitter, angry veterans. This is a room with people who could potentially fund every member who signs on. They will sign the checks that determine the level of care.

He takes the steps of the stage one at a time, vision tilting slightly. He takes a deep breath to focus and finally manages to step up to the podium that Strange is hovering beside.

He pulls the cards out of his suit pocket and sets them gently on the stage, then adjusts the microphone to his height.

“Thank you, for all being here tonight.” He clears his throat awkwardly, “This was not an easy decision to make. A lot of veterans today just retreat once they are home, separate from their families, friends, lovers. While the VA does what it can, it does not-.” He trails off, stomach quivering and eyes scanning the crowd before him. They look damn near bored, they look like this is the least of their worries. “Ah fuck it.” He shoves a hand through his hair.

“We’re fucked up.”

A gasp ripples through the banquet hall. “It’s the truth. It’s reality. These cards are going to tell you the soft side of it, but there is no soft side. We’re coming back from a war. A war that you pretend isn’t happening every day you get up and go to work. We come back without arms and legs, some of us don’t return at all. We close our eyes and see bombs and the flash of gunfire. Those things don’t go away.” His throat is dry, so dry. His voice isn’t steady. His heartbeat triples, “Some of us come back so fucked up we barely last a week. So we need this. Advanced care. Advanced limbs. We need people to actually look at us as human beings damaged by war instead of bullshit prayer circles on Facebook feeds.”

He can’t stand up much longer. He feels the panic attack barreling straight for him and he mutters a hasty, ‘Thank you’ before stumbling off the stage and straight into Steve’s arms.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Steve voice is steady amidst the chaos of his brain. The fuzz is blinding and the white noise is deafening, but he can hear Steve muttering, “Breathe through it. You have this, Buck”.

He takes a few ragged breaths, trying to focus his vision and on the blond holding him up right.

Nothing feels right, his chest is tight, but Steve is there. Hands warm on his shoulders, his own hand gripping the taller man’s bicep tight.

“You did real good up there, Bucky. Amazing.”

His chest heaves as he takes in a good, healthy gulp of air. His vision focuses slowly and as Steve’s face materializes before him he grins, “Steve.”

“Good recovery. No vomiting. That’s a good sign.” That would be Banner checking in at his right.

“You back?” Steve asks, hand wrapping around to rest at the base of Bucky’s neck. His thumb caresses the soft spot behind his ear and Bucky leans into it like a starved animal.

He closes his eyes and whispers, “Yea. Yea, I’m good.”

“Twenty minutes. Stress induced.” Banner mutters again, scribbling something on a notepad in his hand.

“How pissed is Strange?” Bucky groans.

“He’s not pissed at all!” Tony pushes through the curtains of the back stage area, “You have them eating out of our hands, Barnes.”

“What?” He chokes, staring incredulously between Steve and Tony.

“Over half the people out there are turning in checks.” Tony hisses, “It’s amazing. Honesty is the best policy, right?”

“Think that’s enough publicity to keep SHEILD off our back for a bit?” Natasha ventures as she joins them.

“Are you kidding me? Coulson already called Pepper and cussed us all out. He can’t touch Barnes without exposing a shit tone of classified information.” Tony points to Bucky.

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Banner scrunches up his nose, “That still puts Bucky at a high risk, should any ‘fan’ or newspaper decide to dig too deep.”

“I’ve already scheduled a little meeting with Phillips down in the file room.” Tony winks, “I’ll get the old man to keep things locked tight. Take him home, Steve. He did well tonight. He deserves a rest.”

Bucky sees Steve nod out of his peripheral vision. “Let’s get out of here.” The blond mutters.

 

-0-0-0-0-

 

Once they are finally home, when the elevator doors shut and dive down to lock for the night, only then does Bucky finally relax. He slumps against the kitchen counter and presses his forehead to the cool wood of the cabinet.

Steve is silent behind him, opening the fridge and extracting two water bottles. He twists the cap on one and sets it beside Bucky on the countertop. Bucky reaches out for it, but doesn’t drink, just holds it tight and closes his eyes.

“Did it ever go away for you?” Bucky asks.

Steve frowns, “Explain.”

“The constant anxiety, That ‘I’ll never be able to relax again’ feeling.” He sighs, pushing away from the counter.

Steve seems to hesitate at that, blue eyes shifting around the room and refusing to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Once you find a way to relieve the stress, then yes. Works differently for everyone. Have you discussed it with Banner?”

Bucky feels his face fall at the vague answer, “Was it Sam?” The words blurt out before he can stop them and Steve’s gaze narrows on him.

“Not appropriate, Buck.”

“Oh.” Bucky nods, “Kinda like that kiss. Is anything appropriate with you, Steve?” He sets the water bottle on the counter, “Maybe you should make me a list.” He shoves past the blond and attempts to head for his room, but one of Steve’s hands wraps firmly around his bicep and halts him in place.

He looks from the hand to Steve angrily, “Let me go, Rogers.”

“No. You’re going to listen to me this time.” He twists Bucky around until they are toe to toe and Bucky is reminded that Steve is much bigger than him. He’s broad, tall, and the warmth radiates off of him, much like the anger showing plain as day on his face.

“You want to know why this isn’t happening?” He points between them with his other hand, “It’s because I don’t have sex the way _you_ have sex. The way I find my center is private and who I find that center with is not your concern.” Bucky swallows thickly, hating how he feels like a scolded child as Steve continues, “You are nowhere near the headspace to have any relation with me.”

“And what kind of headspace is that?” Bucky’s voice trembles.

Steve’s eyes darken, “You need to be able to take orders. Without question. You obey and I reward.”

Oh.

 _OH_.

Suddenly everything from the past few months clicks into place perfectly. Bucky’s no prude, he knows what BDSM is. He’s watched the stray porn video, he’s male, sue him. However, the way Steve’s grip is firm, but relenting and the reigned in anger bunched in his shoulders is nothing like the actors in some porno. This is different, this is…

“H-how do I get there?” He stumbles over the words and they take Steve by surprise if the expression on his face is anything to go by.

“Bucky-.” He starts to shake his head, fingers gliding down and away from Bucky’s arm.

Bucky quickly straightens his posture wanting the hand back, hating the hesitation in Steve’s gaze. Gone is the hard, commanding look from before. Bucky instantly misses it.

“How?” He asks again, “How do I get there?” He swallows again, “Give me an order.”

“No.” Steve takes a step back, “No, Buck, I can’t-.”

“Let me try.” Bucky insists, “I know you want me, Steve.”

There’s a stretch of silence as Steve buries his face in his hands, back pressed to the fridge, shoulders tense. It’s almost as if he’s trying to bring himself back from something. Bucky wonders if Steve needs this as much as Bucky wants it.

Steve’s hands slide down his face, almost as if in defeat, and he steps forward back into Bucky’s space. That look is back, that hot blue stare that ignited their first kiss.

“You will complete two therapy sessions and one group. You will sit with me after and you will complete step four. Then and only then, will I consider this.” He pauses for a moment, taking in whatever he sees across Bucky’s face. Bucky feels a mixture of apprehension and desire, he hopes he’s projecting it. “Do not masturbate.”

“What?” Bucky blurts.

Steve’s voice is hard, “James.”

A bolt of lust zips through him and his breath catches, “Don’t masturbate. Got it.”

Steve nods once, then twists on his heels and grabs another bottle of water from the fridge. “Get some rest.”

Bucky nods woodenly and remains standing in shock in the middle of their kitchen.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

“I know that look.” Sam mutters as he walks Bucky to the elevator in Banner’s office building.

“You do?” Bucky hesitates.

Sam rolls his eyes, “I spend nearly every day with you and every other time you’re in Steve’s pocket. You two finally ‘talk’?” He raises air quotes.

Bucky sighs heavily, shoves his hand in to the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing, “Yea.”

“Oh thank God.” Sam throws his head back, “Finally. I was wondering if I was going to have to stage an intervention.”

Bucky shoots him a strange look, “No need to be dramatic, Wilson.”

“Look, Steve has this do-gooder, always righteous act that drives me spare sometimes.” Sam explains, “He forgets to be selfish. He forgets to ask for what he wants.”

“To be fair, it’s not something someone wants to bring up in everyday conversation.”

Sam considers that, “Yea, you’re right, but I figured after he kissed you that he’d at least explain why instead of being all vague and mysterious about it.” He slices his hand through the air, “Being around you two is like watching all this beautiful foreplay unfold with nowhere to go.”

“Please stop talking about sex.” Bucky grimaces.

Sam laughs as they enter Banners office, “Sure.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

Steve paces Tony’s office for ten straight minutes before the man himself swaggers through the entrance of his ‘secret room’. The door opens with a sharp hiss and closes just as quickly, with Steve catching only a glimpse of the shiny glass and steel room beyond.

“Abigail mentioned you were here.” Tony says, leaning against his desk, “What brings you this far into the city?”

“Updates.” Steve stops pacing, “Tell me what you’ve got.”

Tony raises an eyebrow slowly, “I’m not one of your soldiers, Rogers. Try again. Loosen your damn shoulders.”

Steve huffs angrily and out of spite, wiggles his shoulders. It makes Tony grin, but Steve knows that Tony can read him like a book. They were best friends for a reason, after all.

“Phillips has Bucky’s folder so well secured, Coulson will need the presidents seal himself to get them turned over.” Tony states proudly, “That’s not to say there isn’t any information already floating through channels we can’t control.” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, “Whoever this ‘Crossbones’ is and whoever held Bucky overseas isn’t going to play nice. The guy you shot’s DNA was Russian, his name was Drak and that’s all we could figure out. No ID, no records.”

“So how did you get his name?” Steve states impatiently.

“He had it tattooed down his arm,” Tony pats his forearm, “So that’s what we are calling him. Nice shot, by the way.” He makes a finger gun at Steve, “He died instantly, according to Lee. Good to know you haven’t lost your touch.”

Steve rolls his eyes and starts pacing again.

Tony groans, “When was the last time you got laid?”

“In general, or my way?” Steve snaps.

“I thought you forgave me for last time.” Tony pouts, “I apologized for being a dick.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why are you prowling around my office like a caged cat? Just call one of your side guys.” Tony shrugs, “Wham bam, nice calm, Steve.”

“No.” Steve stops, hovers on his next step, “I can’t.” Then resumes pacing.

He can feel Tony watching him, scanning him like one of his projects. Tying to dissect him and take every piece apart until he can find the one that doesn’t quite fit.

“Barnes agreed then?”

Steve stops instantly and hangs his head, “He didn’t even question it. He just asked for more.”

Tony whistles, “Damn.”

“What do I do, Tony?” Steve glances over at him, lost.

“Give him a chance.” Tony shrugs, “If he’s eager, it means he’s willing. Just, treat lightly and keep your communication open.”

“I know how it works, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with any one serious, not since-.”

“Sam.” They say Wilsons name together, sharing a pained look between the two of them.

“Sam forgave you a long time ago, Steve.” Tony walks forward, “Let yourself have this. If Bucky wants this too, be selfish for once.”

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

When Bucky exits Banner office, feeling the weight of his confessions and trying to keep his head high, he notices two things. One, Sam is flirting with the dark-haired beauty who Nat hired to make him over and two, Steve was there too, Pepper at his side.

He hesitates when he sees Steve, unsure of how to act. Steve had given him orders. Bucky was in the process of following them. Hell, they were the steps he was already following, but the thought of Steve rewarding him in any way once complete was enough to make his stomach flutter.

Steve spots him first and his smile is proud, his posture perfect, but Bucky can see the desire flicking behind his mask of professionalism.

“Where the party?” Bucky jokes, stepping up to the three of them.

“Bucky Barnes!” The woman claps, “I’m Darcy.” She sticks her hand out excitedly and Bucky shakes it quickly.

“I remember you.” He grins, “Hard to forget.”

She laughs, “Charmer.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

Bucky can feel as Steve takes a stand at his left shoulder. He glances up at Steve from the corner of his eye and Steve is watching him. His face is impassive, but Bucky’s insides shiver at the look.

“Darcy will be your guide.” Steve informs him, “She will be with you for the photo shoots, interviews, so on.” He waves his hand in Darcy’s direction and she beams at them both.

“Oh great.” Bucky smiles, “I assume she’s a professional.”

“Up to date in all things hip.” She salutes, “I’ll come by before the first magazine interview and go over what questions you’ll be asked and if you need to skip any.”

He nods, “Sounds good. Thanks, Darcy.”

“No problem.” She winks, “Now, I’ve got a salon to run. Bye boys.” She sends them a wave and disappears through the elevators.

Sam frowns, “Is she taking your car?”

Steve chuckles, “Yes, yes she is. Guess I’m riding home with you two.”

Sam shrugs and heads for the elevator, “Works for me.”

“You’re doing well.” Steve whispers as they walk side by side behind Sam.

Bucky gives him a hesitant smile, “I’m new to this, so I’m trying to do it in a way that you’re aware.”

“Trust me.” Steve says, “I’m aware. I’m nervous about using the program as a gateway, but you need it.”

“It makes this a little easier.” Bucky agrees, “I am new to this after all.”

“Always start small.” Steve nods.

Bucky’s body buzzes with happiness as they join an impatient Sam in the elevator. He leans against the back of it and closes his eyes against the giddy feeling jumping around in his stomach.

Things were finally starting to look up.

 


End file.
